Resistance
by NerdBurga
Summary: Arthur, Merlin and the knights of Camelot are sent on a quest to rid their kingdom of a terrible banshee, a creature that can get into your mind and convince you to give up your soul. They all thought they knew the risks going in - but no one is prepared for when the monster goes after Merlin, or the consequences it will have on them all.
1. Chapter 1

**Here we go, the beginning of a new story! If you recognise it, I began to upload it on a new FF profile before I was able to log back into this one, and I want to keep all my stories on the same account, so I'm reuploading. Sorry about that.**

**Please be aware that I've completely made up the mythology for banshees in this one. Please also note that this will be a fairly dark story, and I'll put warnings at the start of some chapters for possible triggers. Other than that, enjoy!**

"So Merlin, what will you be cooking for us tonight?"

Merlin smiled at the enthusiasm in Gwaine's voice over a simple meal and replied "whatever you catch for me."

They were riding their horses along a narrow forest path, one week's ride away from Camelot. Having heard reports of banshees near the edge of the kingdom, Arthur had immediately readied himself, his five best knights and his manservant on a quest to go out and slay them. They were nearing the area of the sightings and expected to begin the search tomorrow.

Banshees were terrible things, dangerous and easily underestimated. According to Gaius, they could get into your mind and take the form of anyone you knew. Once they had targeted you, they would become someone you had lost and convince you to join them in death. This was how they gained power, by taking the souls of others. Apparently the more powerful the banshee, the stronger the victim they targeted.

Considering the one leading them was the regent of Camelot, Merlin was feeling pretty nervous about this quest.

"A truly competent servant would be able to catch the food himself, Merlin." Ah yes, speaking of his royal pratness…

"Really, Arthur? You want me running around with a bow and arrow?"

Even riding behind him, Merlin could sense the grimace on his friend's face. "No. No, you have a point there. I've seen you shoot. You couldn't hit me if I were twice as big."

"Keep eating the way you do and we'll find out," was the immediate retort. The knights were all snickering behind them, even Leon allowing an amused smile. Arthur didn't reply, but Merlin could practically hear the fuming.

_Merlin…_

The manservant whipped his head to the side, pulling the reins on his horse. Merlin squinted through the dense trees, searching for the source of what felt like a whisper in his ear. That voice… he _knew_ that voice…

"Merlin, what are you doing? Other than holding everyone up!"

He looked back to the path where Arthur sat, looking annoyed, and realised all of the knights had been forced to stop behind him. "Oh. Uh… sorry. Thought I heard something." He urged his horse forward and quickly caught up to Arthur, who just rolled his eyes and looked forward again.

From just behind him, he heard Lancelot murmur "something we need to be worried about?"

Merlin shook his head slightly. He'd just been imagining things. That voice… it couldn't have been.

Elyan started up the conversation again but Merlin remained silent and in his own thoughts for the rest of the ride.

They finally reached a clearing in the forest just as the sun began to set, already dimmed by the thick canopy above them. As the knights tied their horses to trees around the clearing Merlin began his search for firewood and they all fell into the now familiar routine of setting up camp. The manservant slowly wondered away from the others, picking up any broken branches or twigs he found.

_Merlin…_

Merlin froze in the midst of reaching for a thick branch.

_Merlin…_

He quickly stood and looked around him. He definitely knew that voice. He would never mistake it for another. But it couldn't be possible…

"Planning on burning the whole forest?"

Merlin spun around only to come face to face with Gwaine, an amused look on his face. "What?"

He nodded to the wood Merlin was carrying. "I think you've got enough, mate."

The manservant looked down to see the pile he'd collected was almost overflowing in his arms. "Oh. I wasn't really paying attention."

"Clearly. The princess said he didn't want anyone going off alone." Gwaine stepped forward and swung his arm around Merlin's neck, leading the skinnier boy back to camp. "Can't be too careful with a banshee floating around, can we?"

"I'm pretty sure they don't float, Gwaine."

The knight shrugged. "Have you ever seen a banshee? No? Then how would you know, hmm?"

* * *

><p>The royal party sat around a healthy fire, Merlin's rabbit stew settling in their stomachs. It was well and truly dark now and they sat around the flames as if drawn to the source of light. Merlin stared into the centre where the wood was black and glowing, deep in thought. He was half-sure he was going crazy. But surely the voice he heard was just caused by lack of sleep and too much travelling on horseback. He didn't sleep well on the hard ground, his bones constantly knocking against some rock or other, and horseback, while quicker than walking, was never going to feel completely natural to him. He was sore and tired and sick of travelling. He was simply… thinking too much. Just a trick of his imagination.<p>

As hard as Merlin tried to convince himself, though, he wasn't sure he wanted to be right.

"…'lin?" Or are you completely incompetent?"

Merlin forced his eyes away from the fire and looked at Arthur, trying to focus. "Sorry, what?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and Percival attempted to hide a chuckle with a cough. "What is with you today?" the prince asked exasperatedly. "You haven't listened to a word I've said."

"I'm just waiting for something worth listening to, sire," Merlin replied easily. The grin fell on his face and Arthur huffed, but internally Merlin was still worlds away.

* * *

><p>"We'll split up into two groups. Percival and Gwaine with me, Lancelot and Elyan with Leon." Arthur ordered. "Meet back here in three hours to report. Remember, if you encounter the banshee it may be disguised. Keep your wits sharp." There was a chorus of 'yes sire' and Arthur took a breath, readying himself for the inevitable argument. "Merlin, I want you to stay here. No sense getting in the way."<p>

"Fine."

"I don't want to hear it Merlin, you're not trained for - sorry, what?" Arthur stared at his manservant, leaning against a tree by his horse, eyes on the ground in front of him. The younger man shrugged.

"Fine. I'll stay here."

Arthur continued to stare, aware his knights were doing the same. Merlin obeying a command without complaint was rare. Merlin agreeing to stay behind? It was unheard of. "You… you will?" He couldn't keep the skepticism out of his voice.

"Yes, fine, you're right, I'm not trained to face a bloody banshee," Merlin said. He sounded impatient. "I'll stay here, look after the horses or whatever."

"Well… good." Arthur replied lamely. His mind was still having trouble processing. Really, this only confirmed what he'd begun to suspect yesterday - something was quite wrong with his friend. Arthur repressed a sigh. He'd have to sort it out later, and finding out what was wrong with Merlin was like trying to pull a sword out of stone. Shaking his head, he gestured for Percival and Gwaine (who was looking at Merlin with a touch of concern) to follow him further into the trees.

* * *

><p>"Maybe he's sick," Elyan suggested as he, Leon and Lancelot walked through the forest. They were all spread out, but still within seeing and speaking distance of each other. Just in case. Lancelot lagged behind slightly, reluctant. Clearly Merlin was up to something, and he was loathe to leave the younger man to do it alone. But he couldn't stay behind without raising all sorts of questions, and Merlin had shot him a look that screamed <em>'go away'<em>. It didn't help his suspicions.

"Maybe," replied Leon. "I'm honestly not sure that would stop him though." If Lancelot wasn't too busy being worried he would find it funny how concerned it made everyone when Merlin actually followed an order. "Perhaps we shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth," Leon continued. "He'd be easy pickings if we came across the banshee."

"Merlin is stronger than you give him credit for," Lancelot inserted. It wasn't the wisest thing to say but he hated how badly his friend was underestimated. If only they knew what the servant was capable of.

"I don't doubt the boy has spirit," Leon said, fondness in his voice. "But that will only get you so far against an enemy of magic, Lancelot."

The other knight quickly bit his lip before a laugh escaped him. Before he had to think of a reply, however, Elyan interrupted.

"Do you guys hear that?"

The other two knights immediately stopped and strained their ears. Lancelot could hear nothing over the leaves rustling in the breeze and a bird singing nearby. But Elyan drew his sword and advanced quickly, a frightened look on his face. Leon and Lancelot exchanged glances before pulling out their own swords and following him. Elyan was running as if the devil were after him, and the other two had to sprint to catch up. "Elyan!" Leon called, "slow down!"

Elyan came to an abrupt stop, but as his fellow knights reached him and stopped at his side, they realised it was not because Leon had ordered him to.

Standing there with sad eyes and his arms outstretched, was a tall, dark skinned man with a bald head. The man took a step towards them and said mournfully, "Elyan."

Elyan stared at the man, unmoving, and whispered in a wavering voice, "Father?"

Leon immediately stepped in front of Elyan with his sword held in front of him. "Your father is dead, Elyan." Lancelot, catching on, grabbed Elyan's arm and tried to pull him back but the man yelled and wrenched his arm away as if burned.

The banshee was here. And it had found its victim.

"Son," the banshee called out in the man's deep voice, "where were you?" He took another step forward and Leon raised his sword higher. "I was in trouble, I needed your help! Where were you?"

Elyan's breath hitched and he tried to move closer but Lancelot again pulled him back, this time not letting go when the knight struggled. He had to get him out of here. Now. "Father, I'm…"

"It's not him, Elyan!" Leon yelled, never taking his eyes off the imposter. "Think! It's in your head!"

"Why weren't you there? Why didn't you protect me? I wanted to be with my son!"

"Elyan, you have to listen to us," Lancelot murmured as Elyan continued to struggle, trying desperately to reach his 'father'. "Your father is gone. Your father would never blame you!"

"No, no that's him!" Elyan slammed himself back against Lancelot, causing his hand to slip, and hastily stepped forward, only for Leon to knock him back. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry father! Please, I wish I had been there! Please forgive me!"

"But you weren't there," the banshee moaned, ignoring the other two knights. He looked to Elyan with an imitation of hope. "However... you are now." Cursing, Lancelot quickly sidestepped behind a tree and quietly made his way around the creature. "Will you stay with me this time, son? Will you join me?"

Elyan stared, his hands shaking on his sword. Leon abandoned caution and turned to his friend, gripping him by the shoulders. "Listen to me, listen! You can't do this, Elyan, he wants you dead! Your father would never ask such a thing of you, and you know it! Think about it, just _think_ Elyan!"

"Join me, Elyan!" the banshee yelled over Leon to be heard. "Stay with me this time, please! I need you! I - " Its voice tapered off and he looked down in shock to see a sword protruding from his chest. Lancelot stood behind him and pulled the sword back out, the banshee falling to its knees.

"NO!" Elyan fought against Leon's hold, trying to run to his father. His eyes widened as suddenly the creature's form began to shift and bend as if being seen through rippling water. Its flesh bulged and sank in places and finally its head shot up with an inhuman wail. Its body turned to char and exploded to pieces of ash, floating up with the wind and catching in Lancelot's eyes. An uneasy quiet fell over the forest and, very slowly, Leon let go of his friend. The bewitched knight slowly sank to the ground.

Lancelot joined them and crouched in front of Elyan, who's distant eyes gradually seemed to focus again. He stared at the spot where the banshee had been and for a moment Lancelot worried he was in shock. But then the man was letting out a shaky breath and hunching his shoulders, as if a sudden weight had been dropped back on top of him.

"I'm sorry, Elyan," Lancelot muttered.

Elyan shook his head and forced himself to his feet, Leon and Lancelot doing the same. "I… I don't know what came over me."

Leon rested a hand on his shoulder, his voice sorrowful as he spoke. "It was magic, my friend. We are powerless against its ways." Lancelot said nothing, only sheathed his sword. "We should head back to the campsite. We'll have some time to…" he glanced at Elyan as he sheathed his own sword, "rest. Before the others get back."

* * *

><p>As expected, they were the first ones to return, and Elyan immediately went to sit down by the fire where a pot of something was bubbling away for lunch. He looked like he'd run ten miles. Probably felt it too.<p>

Distracted, Lancelot look about, and suddenly felt a shiver of unease creep up his spine. "Where's Merlin?" he asked.

The warlock was nowhere to be seen.


	2. Chapter 2

**God, such a great response for one chapter! I'm so grateful for all the support I'm already getting, thank you!**

**I have the first six chapters of this story written, and I'll be uploading one a day so that those of you who read it on my other account don't have to wait too long for us to get back on track. But just be aware that after that the updates will be significantly slower. Hopefully not by too much, but yeah. Just warning you.**

**Now, time to find out if you were right about the voice Merlin's been hearing...**

Merlin watched the knights leave from the corner of his eye, leaning against the tree as he attempted to feign laid-back. He'd heard the whisper of his name throughout the night, making for even less sleep than usual, and by the early hours of the morning it had evolved into a call. A plea. And it broke Merlin's heart every time. This was more than just his imagination, and he intended to find out just what was going on. But this was one of those many times that he had to do something alone. Another secret that might reveal too much about himself. He couldn't very well do it hanging around five people who would go for his throat if they saw him use magic.

Not that he really thought… Well, it wasn't exactly the time to risk it.

Merlin counted to one hundred before going off on his own search. He could feel the pull, had sensed it since breakfast. Something - some_one_ wanted him to find them. Merlin's focus zeroed in on that tug and blocked out all else. He didn't pay attention to where he was going or how far he was from the campsite. Only the pull, and the voice that was now chanting in his head, getting louder as he got closer.

_Merlin._

_Merlin!_

"Merlin!"

Merlin froze and looked up from where he'd been staring at the ground as he walked. Arthur, Percival and Gwaine were all watching him, the former with a look of pure annoyance. "Uh… Hey."

"Hey? That's all you have for me, _hey_? I bloody _knew_ it was too good to be true! My manservant actually obeying an order, oh we can't have that, can we? The whole damn world would flip upside down, god forbid!" Gwaine watched on, amused, as Arthur ranted. Percival simply shot Merlin a sympathetic look.

Hastily, the younger man cut in. "Arthur, calm down. I was just… hunting."

Arthur stared at him. "_Hunting_?"

"Yes, hunting! You keep complaining about how I should, so here I am, looking for something to feed you lot when you get back." Merlin rolled his eyes and continued "excuse me for trying to be helpful. I can promise it won't happen again, sire."

There was a moment of Arthur just continuing to stare at him in disbelief, until finally the regent said "well stay closer to the campsite, at least. I told you to stay there for a reason."

Merlin gave a mock bow and turned, reluctantly going back the way he'd come. Great. Now he actually had to catch something for them.

* * *

><p>In the end he couldn't bring himself to kill the poor rabbit he'd caught (with a little magic cheating). The bugger had looked up with him with ridiculously sad eyes. Really, he didn't have a choice but to let it go.<p>

Merlin did, however, gather together a bunch of roots and a handful of herbs from his pack to make a stew. He was stirring it absently over the fire when he finally heard his name again. The pull was much stronger this time, as if impatient, and Merlin had no qualms about picking back up on the trail immediately. Food forgotten, he dashed through the trees, this time glancing about him to make sure he didn't run into any more unwanted interruptions. His heart raced as his name was yelled over and over in his head, his feet almost tripping over themselves in his haste. Leaves crunched beneath his boots and he pushed branches out of his way, finally breaking into a run.

Eventually he saw a figure in the distance, and suddenly stopped, unsure. Hearing that voice again was exciting, exhilarating, but now that he was so close to the source, it was also terrifying.

The warlock crept forwards, blood pounding in his ears. He didn't stop until he was close enough to reach out and touch the other person. But he kept his arms by his sides and only stared, waiting for himself to wake up and it to have all been an impossible dream.

Standing there, smiling sadly at him, was Freya.

She looked healthier than he remembered. Her face was more rounded, her arms no longer representing pale twigs. Her skin was clean and she had more colour to her cheeks. Her dark hair fell across her shoulders, dark and thick and shining in the sun. But she still wore that same dress, a mirage of purple and blue that had suited her so well. Merlin could not tear his eyes away if he wanted to, and he didn't think he ever would. This was Freya. His Freya. She was here, she was…

She was dead. Freya was dead. Merlin took a step back and shook his head, trying to clear it. It was if someone had poured murky water into his head, his brain slow and sluggish.

"I've missed you so much, Merlin."

Merlin stared at her, shivering at those words. It was exactly her voice, exactly how he remembered it. But something about this… this wasn't right.

"Haven't you missed me, Merlin?"

"Every day." He had to move past what felt to be a sudden rock in his throat to answer. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold her, confirm that she was real. But something inside of him, something that felt suspiciously like his magic, was screaming at him to leave, to run away and not look back.

Her smile warmed with his answer and she stepped closer to him. "Were you lonely? Without me?" Her hand reached up, as if to cup his cheek. Merlin held his breath.

"I…"

"I was lonely." The hand dropped with her smile and she stepped back. "I've been so lonely since you left me."

Merlin stepped forward, unwilling to have that distance back so soon. "No Freya, I didn't leave you, I - "

"Yes you did," she hissed. All warmth had drained from her face. She looked angry and cold. "You left me to be attacked and cornered. Like an animal! You left me to _die_!"

Merlin could feel his heart shattering with every word. "Please Freya, I never meant for you to get hurt. I wanted to save you."

"You promised me," Freya said, her voice breaking, her face crumpling. "You promised you would protect me. We were going to go far away, and be together. Somewhere we could be accepted, be ourselves. Somewhere we could be safe, and not have to hide who we were." Her voice became impossibly small. "You promised me."

"I'm so sorry Freya," said Merlin. He felt weak and drained, half-sure he would collapse at any moment, and wholly not caring. "Please, please believe me. I wanted so badly for things to be different. Not a day goes by that I don't feel awful for not being able to protect you. Please Freya, I - I'm sorry!."

Freya took another step away from him, a sob escaping her. This was wrong, this was all so wrong…

Merlin froze. This _was_ wrong. Freya was kind, Freya was loving and caring and… and Freya was dead.

This wasn't his Freya.

Merlin stumbled backwards and the woman, the imposter in front of him narrowed her eyes. Merlin's mind was still trying to wade through the muck suddenly weighing down his brain. There was something… something he was supposed to remember… about this forest, about why he was there.

"Are you leaving me again, Merlin?" Freya's - no, no not Freya, someone, something else's - voice had become dark and cold. "Are you really abandoning me again?"

Merlin shook his head wildly, yelling "shut up, shut up!" His hands tangled in his hair and he tried to concentrate. Why was he here? What was it about this forest..?

The banshee. He was here because they had been hunting a banshee.

"Do I mean nothing to you, Merlin?"

Banshees… they were creatures of magic. They lived off the souls of those they killed, they could get into your mind and…

The imposter was yelling at him now. "Who will you turn to without me? Your precious prince? He that would kill you if he knew the truth?"

They pretended to be the dead.

"Don't leave me, Merlin!"

They imitated the loved and lost of their victim.

"Merlin!"

It was a banshee here, now, yelling at him in the form of his beloved. A banshee was pretending to be his Freya.

With a shout of panic and sorrow Merlin's arm flew out and the banshee was thrown back, slamming into the trunk of a thick tree. It hissed at him and just as he readied himself for another attack, it vanished.

Merlin stared listlessly at the place it had been and slowly sank to his knees, feeling as if all his strength had disappeared with it. His entire frame trembled and he could feel the tears trailing down his cheeks but didn't care enough to wipe them away.

* * *

><p>They agreed Leon should stay with Elyan by the fire while Lancelot went in search of their wayward servant. Stepping away from the campsite, he looked for signs of the clumsy warlock and quickly found a trail to follow. He thought back to the expression on Merlin's face that morning. It had been clear to him Merlin had the notion to do something reckless. Now, he simply hoped he hadn't made the wrong decision in leaving him to it. Lancelot didn't dare call out his friend's name so as not to alert any possible enemies, but he did soon pick up the pace.<p>

A pained shout suddenly reached Lancelot's ears and he broke into a run. Finally seeing his friend - alone and on his knees, facing away from him and remaining completely still - he dashed over and knelt in front of him, searching for injuries.

"Merlin, what happened? Are you hurt?" Merlin's eyes were red and there were tear tracks down his face. He looked more like a lost boy than an all-powerful warlock. "Merlin, come on now, speak to me."

Slowly Merlin's gaze focused and he seemed to see Lancelot for the first time. "Wh… what are you doing here?"

"I've been looking for you. What's your excuse?" Lancelot retorted gently.

"I…" Merlin looked around them. "I was looking for something." Abruptly he stood, wiping his face clean, as if just realising what he'd been doing.

"The banshee?" Lancelot asked.

An odd look crossed Merlin's features at the mention but it was gone as quickly as it had been. "Yeah. I figured I could…" He took a deep breath. "I figured I could kill it."

"And did you?"

"Didn't find it." Merlin smiled sheepishly and turned in direction of the campsite.

"Then what - "

"How did you go? Any better luck?"

Lancelot frowned at the quick sidestep. What the hell had happened? And why was Merlin hiding it from him? "Yes, actually. It tried for Elyan, but I killed it." At this, Merlin paused and stared at Lancelot in shock. "What? I guess you don't need magic to kill it."

"Are you sure?" There was an urgency to Merlin's tone that Lancelot didn't understand. He scrutinised his friend carefully.

"Definitely. It's dead."

Merlin stared at him a moment longer before continuing to trek back to the others. "Oh," was all he said.

Lancelot followed him slowly, his mind whirring. There was something very obviously wrong here. And he had no idea how to help.

* * *

><p>When Arthur returned to their camp with Gwaine and Percival it was to a shell-shocked Elyan, a wary Leon, a distracted Lancelot and Merlin being so quiet it was as if someone had died. Leon explained what had happened with the banshee away from where Elyan sat, staring into the coals of the now dead fire. It was a very bitter-sweet ending to their quest.<p>

Arthur declared they would leave immediately after lunch, wanting to be home as soon as possible. There was a general air of agreement, everyone subdued by what the banshee had managed to do before Lancelot speared it with his sword.

* * *

><p>It was within an hour of riding that Arthur realised something important. He had been quietly mulling over how to boost the morale of his men (and had thus far come up with nothing) and finally he realised why it was so difficult.<p>

He remembered a few months back, when they'd been on a patrol to the southern border. It had gone sour when they'd happened across a serket nest. They had been swarmed from all sides and it had been a miracle they'd survived at all. A miracle in the form of boulders falling from the nearby cliff and crushing half of the monsters. Unfortunately, they did not escape completely unscathed.

Sir Reaver had been a good man, and an excellent knight. He had always fought hard, determined to prove himself even after he'd been given a position as a royal knight of Camelot. He had actually been pushing Percival out of the way when the serket struck him down.

Arthur had felt something in him break at the loss, and he knew the other knights felt the same way. There had been mourning, silent and stoic.

And then Merlin was talking, speaking of the time Reaver had begged him for a place to hide with the royal cook on his heels. It turned out he had been caught sneaking a snack out of the kitchens, and everyone knew you didn't want the cook catching you. She could be surprisingly terrifying for someone of her stature. Gwaine commented that he always knew he liked Reaver for a reason and suddenly the mood was lightened with laughter and reminisces of their fallen comrade.

It was not the only instance; Merlin was always lightening the mood one way or another, always turning a sombre situation into something a little less awful.

But not this time. Merlin remained studiously silent, riding right behind Arthur as always, seemingly gazing away into nothing as they travelled. There was no banter, no inspiring speech, no encouragement sent Elyan's way. Arthur had barely had to find ways to cheer his men up since Merlin appeared at his side all those years ago, and now, without that usual help, Arthur was at a loss.

"You look like you're about ready to fall off your horse there, Merlin."

Arthur turned back at the sound of Gwaine's voice, to see Merlin had indeed been leaning to the left precariously. At the mention of his name, Merlin shook his head as if clearing it and straightened up. "Just lost in thought, is all," he replied.

"That must be a first," Arthur muttered without thinking.

Not that he regretted it. Percival snickered and Elyan smiled and Merlin rolled his eyes - in effect, looking more like himself than he had all day.

"The way he treats you, Merlin, really," Gwaine piped up in a voice of mock-offence. "I wouldn't stand for it. You should quit."

Merlin scoffed. "He'd be dead within the week."

Ignoring Lancelot's sudden need to clear his throat, Arthur retorted "_please_. You're the one who couldn't even catch one lousy rabbit."

"I'm telling you, I had it in my hands!"

"Right, and you _let it go_," Arthur said skeptically. "And if that's true, it just makes you more of a girl than I thought."

"I'm sure it was especially cute," Elyan added and Arthur quickly turned forward to hide his grin. That was more like it. They were getting back on track.

Now maybe Merlin would stop sulking about whatever was wrong and get back to acting like Merlin.


	3. Chapter 3

**So uh, because it was an issue for someone last time, I will explain now, I realise for some parts Merlin will be OOC. There is a reason for that though. It's part of the story, don't worry.**

**I'm looking forward to the next chapter. It's been my favourite to write so far - I got excited just typing it up. You might disagree with me, though. ReluctantSlashFan insisted on hiding Merlin from me. Anyways. Thanks for the awesome support you all are giving me, it means a lot.**

Merlin lay with his hands cushioning his head, staring up at the leafy canopy above him. He much preferred the open spaces where there was at least a view to the stars when they went on these long trips. They expected to make it out of the forest by tomorrow, at least, and follow the open hills back to Camelot.

None of that, however, was on his mind right now. His brain was buzzing, thoughts crashing about and colliding with each other in his head as he tried to make sense, any sense at all of what the hell happened to him today.

Lancelot had killed the banshee. It was dead. Quite possibly it was over before Merlin had even found… whoever it was he'd found. Surely it couldn't be Freya. Freya would forgive him for what happened… wouldn't she? Merlin knew he was to blame, he knew he should have been there to protect her. Maybe he didn't deserve to be forgiven. Maybe it was only fair.

But even if Freya agreed, it wouldn't matter, because Freya is dead. She's been dead for years. He visited the lake of her funeral often enough to know that. He could never forget the look of her in that boat, so peaceful after so much pain.

Merlin wiped at his eyes irritably. This was getting him nowhere. Perhaps he really was losing his mind. Really it wouldn't be all that surprising -

_Merlin…_

Merlin sat bolt upright, his head flicking in different directions as he tried to pinpoint the direction of Freya's voice. Arthur and the knights all slept soundly, Gwaine snoring horrendously with his mouth hanging open. The fire had burned down to glowing coals. Shadows danced around him, flitting through the trees, surrounding him, threatening him. Merlin stood and crept slowly further into the trees, waiting to hear his name.

This meant he was wholly unprepared when a shriek instead ripped through his mind.

Immediately he dashed forward, following his instincts or that same magical pull, he didn't know and he didn't care. Freya was in pain. She was in pain and she was scared but this time, this time Merlin could save her.

It didn't take him nearly as long to reach her as last time. She was sprawled on her knees on the mossy ground, looking up at him with such intense sorrow in her eyes Merlin was prepared to do anything to take it away.

"Why did you hurt me, Merlin?" She sobbed. All the blood drained from his face.

"I'm so sorry Freya, I thought - I thought - "

"Do you not trust me?" She sniffed, tears welling up in her eyes. "Do you see me as a monster too, now?"

"No Freya, never." Merlin breathed and suddenly he was on the ground in front of her, cupping her cheeks in his bony hands. He didn't care how impossible this was, he didn't care how she got here or what she was doing here, all he cared about was taking the pain away. Freya leaned into his touch, something in her expression softening. "I could never see you as a monster. I know you."

"And I you," she whispered lovingly. Merlin leaned closer and their foreheads rested against each other. "I love you, Merlin."

Merlin's voice came out choked. "Freya - "

"Merlin?!"

Merlin startled to his feet, jumping away from Freya at the intruding voice, and looked around hastily. He thought he heard a growl before he turned back and Freya had disappeared. "No!" He whipped around, reaching with his magic for that pull that would bring him back to his love, but it was gone, she was gone and -

"There you are!" And there was Gwaine, looking wide awake and more than a bit worried. "Bloody hell, Merlin, when I woke up to see you were gone I'd thought the worst!" He paused at the intense glare Merlin was shooting him, only half visible in the dark. "What?"

"You couldn't just - just leave me be?" the manservant snapped harshly.

Gwaine held up his hands, confusion in his voice. "Whoa, hey. Sorry mate but when your friend disappears in the middle of the night in a forest known for evil magical creatures, you allow yourself to worry a bit."

"I'm not helpless, Gwaine!" Merlin yelled, and stormed away from him, further away from camp.

"Wait, hang on!" Gwaine quickly caught up to him and blocked his path, resting his hands on the younger man's narrow shoulders. "I know that! You think I wouldn't go through that whole stupid Fisher King ordeal and think you can't take care of yourself?" His grip tightened. "What happened, Merlin? What's wrong?"

Merlin took a deep steadying breath and shook himself from the knight's grip, stepping around him. "Nothing. Don't worry about it. You should head back."

Gwaine grabbed his arm, gentle but firm. "I think we should both go back." Merlin tried to struggle out of his grip, feeling irrational panic rise in his chest. He was wasting time, time that could be used to find Freya before she was gone forever. He had to see her, he had to talk to her, _now. _He had to be with her, this was his chance to -

A sudden sharp pain to his cheek had him blinking owlishly and staring at Gwaine as if for the first time. His friend was looking concerned and mighty guilty. Merlin's hand slowly rose to touch his sore cheek and he realised Gwaine had slapped him. It was only after that he too realised that said friend was talking.

"I'm sorry Merlin, are you okay? I didn't want to hurt you or anything but you were yelling and struggling and it was like you couldn't even see me…"

Merlin shook his head, feeling as if he was dislodging water from his ears, and tried to focus. "Sorry, yeah, I'm fine. I don't…" He paused, noticing scratches on Gwaine's neck he was fairly sure hadn't been there before. "Oh my god, did I do that?"

Gwaine chuckled, relieved. "They're just scratches, don't worry about it. Have to try harder than that to take me out. You back with me, then?" Merlin nodded. He could feel a headache coming on. _What the hell is happening to me?_ "Not going to fight me if I steer you back this time?"

"No. No, of course not. I can't believe…" The warlock rubbed his eyes, suddenly exhausted. "Let's head back."

Gwaine nodded, and the look of worry still on his face only made Merlin feel all the more guilty.

* * *

><p>As they packed up camp and readied their horses to move out for the day, Gwaine couldn't resist the occasional side-glance at his friend. Merlin hadn't explained why he'd been wandering about in the middle of the night so far from the others. He hadn't given any reason as to why Gwaine had found him in some sort of trance, so desperate to reach whatever destination was in his head that he physically struggled against Gwaine's efforts to bring him back. He'd simply headed straight for his mattress, tripping slightly in the darkness as he did so.<p>

They'd had no chance to speak of it this morning of course, though the knight doubted Merlin would suddenly be ready to explain. Unfortunately, whatever was happening, it was clearly not good, and Merlin appeared to be in over his head. And obviously the problem had not gone away overnight.

Gwaine wouldn't bring it up to Arthur. Not yet. He could be so paranoid about these things, and Gwaine didn't want to risk Merlin clamming up by being pounced on with questions. He would keep an eye on his friend, try to figure out what was going on, and if things got any worse, _then_ he'd involve the princess.

"Let's head out," called the regent himself, mounting his horse with ease. The knights mirrored his actions. Lancelot nudged Merlin with his foot, snapping him out of yet another daze the boy had fallen into, and Merlin, too, climbed onto his horse.

As they began riding at a leisurely pace, Gwaine wondered if perhaps he didn't need to worry about telling Arthur at all. The prince kept sneaking glances at Merlin much like he was doing himself. And, now that he thought about it, Lancelot had been overly-pensive (even for him) since yesterday. Perhaps he had not been the first to notice their friend's odd behaviour. It was comforting, in a way, knowing he wasn't the only one looking out for the lad.

The rest of the day seemingly passed without incident, except for the fact that Merlin grew increasingly agitated, his head constantly twitching one way or the other. It wasn't long before all the knights were throwing concerned looks his way. There wasn't much chatter, though the silence was at least more comfortable than yesterday. By dusk they had reached the outskirts of that accursed forest, and had a clear path to Camelot to follow tomorrow.

They set up their bed rolls as Merlin surveyed the rabbit cooking over the fire. "If I never have that bloody animal again, it will be too soon," moaned Arthur, eyeing the carcass with distaste.

"Yes, I'm sorry Merlin but even with your cooking, a rabbit can only have so many flavours," added Leon jokingly. They'd practically been living off the stuff since their trek had begun, and Gwaine shared their sentiments.

No one seemed all that surprised when a hum of acknowledgement replaced Merlin's expected retort - just disappointed. No, Gwaine had definitely not been the only one to notice their friend's odd behaviour. It was Lancelot, however, who seemed prepared to make the first move.

Where Arthur was always lost in the ways of comforting a friend, and Gwaine was uncomfortable, Lancelot had never hesitated in confronting such issues; particularly when it involved Merlin. Gwaine of course knew the two had met long before he'd come into the picture, but as far as he could tell Lancelot actually hadn't been around much before Morgana's attack. He often wondered what it was that made the two so close, always speaking in whispers and trading glances as if sharing in some big joke. He now wondered if it was the same thing that had Lancelot approaching Merlin by the fire and murmuring something in a low voice, to which Merlin shook his head.

As Gwaine watched from the corner of his eye, Lancelot frowned and said something else, more insistent. Merlin sighed and rested his chin on his knees but didn't answer. Lancelot huffed and stood abruptly. "I'll scout the perimeter for potential threats, if it pleases you sire."

Arthur nodded without looking at the knight, his gaze fixed on Merlin. "Very good. Take someone with you."

"I could do with stretching my legs," Gwaine volunteered immediately. The two slowly walked away from the flickering light and further into the darkness, until they were right on the edge of the tree line.

"It will be good to enjoy the stars tomorrow night," Lancelot commented softly as they began their circuit.

"It's going to get bloody hot riding under the sun again though."

Lancelot shrugged and they continued on silence for a few minutes. Until finally, "you might as well be out with it, Gwaine."

Gwaine hesitated only a moment before responding. "You know what's wrong with him, don't you?"

There was no need to distinguish who they were talking about. Surprisingly, Lancelot just sighed again and said with sincerity "I truly wish I did."

Gwaine narrowed his eyes all the same. "Really? You have no idea? The way you two were talking…"

Lancelot smiled humourlessly. "If you had been eavesdropping more successfully you would know I couldn't get anything out of him." He frowned at the ground, taking a large step over a fallen tree branch. "I didn't think there were still…" He paused and looked worriedly at Gwaine, as if catching himself.

"Still things he kept from you?" Gwaine finished for him. "Don't think me to be stupid, Lance, I've seen the way you two act. A blind man could see that." Lancelot studiously avoided his gaze. Gwaine chuckled, trying not to sound hurt. "I get that Merlin holds things close to his chest at times but it's difficult to imagine what he would feel the need to hide from the rest of us."

"We all have our secrets, Gwaine."

Thinking of his true heritage, Gwaine conceded. "This is true." Mind you, he'd told Merlin his.

They continued on in companionable silence for a while longer before Gwaine spoke up again. "I don't suppose whatever's bothering him will just fix itself."

"Somehow I don't see it being that simple," Lancelot replied drily.

"No. It never is."

* * *

><p>Seven horses rode across roiling green hills at a fast pace, their riders barely needing to steer them the right way. Camelot was a straight ride ahead for the next three days, with the final day's stretch through the more inviting, less evil-infested forest surrounding Camelot's walls. The drudgery of riding, unfortunately for Merlin, made it very difficult to keep his mind from wandering. And all he could think about was Freya.<p>

He hadn't been able to go looking for her last night; he could feel Lancelot watching him, lying awake just a few feet behind him. He had tried to confront Merlin earlier, asking him to walk with him and explain what was going, but Merlin was having none of it. Freya's voice had whispered through his head, cautioning him, begging him to keep her safe. _Don't let them find me,_ she had pleaded. _They will only hurt me. Please don't let them hurt me, Merlin._

Merlin had felt cold at the thought. He was feeling himself get more and more nervous around his friends. His skin had started to crawl whenever they got too close or spoke too loud. _They will hurt me,_ Freya continued to warn him. _They will kill me, just like before. You don't want that, do you Merlin?_

He really didn't. He might finally have a chance to be with his love again. He was not going to fail her a second time.

So he kept quiet and held some distance from the others, having to physically force himself not to wince when Gwaine clapped him on the back, or Percival nudged him with his arm. _They're my friends,_ he tried to remind himself. But the discomfort grew.

Freya's voice, too, had grown. He could hear her now, louder than ever. He had almost feared she would fade as they left the forest but her presence only grew stronger, as if she was riding on the same horse behind him. She no longer simply whispered his name but talked to him, a constant stream of loving murmurings and wary warnings. His awareness was slowly diminishing to the horse under him and the voice in his head.

_I need you, Merlin,_ Freya continued. _I miss you. I can't continue like this forever. I will need to go back soon._

_No!_ Merlin cried out, careful to keep his voice internal. _Don't leave Freya, not again._

_You can come with me,_ she crooned. _Please come with me._

Merlin forced his head up to see the blond man riding a bit ahead of him, his posture straight and regal. He couldn't leave. He had to stay with Arthur. He had to protect Arthur.

_The man who killed me?_ Freya hissed. _The same man that would have you killed if he were to know your true identity?_

Merlin shook his head, unsure if she could even see the motion. _He wouldn't,_ he tried, uneasy by the uncertainty in his own voice. _I know Arthur._

_But he doesn't know you, Merlin,_ she sighed. _None of them do._

_Lancelot -_

_Not even he knows everything you've done!_ Freya shouted in his ear. _Have you told him what you did to Morgana?_

_I was trying to save -_

_You were trying to kill, Merlin!_ Freya seemed to be losing her patience. Merlin cringed at the harsh truth to her words. _Morgana could still have been saved if you hadn't turned on her! All those now buried thanks to her rule might not have suffered if it weren't for you! Does your precious Lancelot know that?_

_Gaius! Gaius knows me!_

_Do you really think he loves you, though?_ Freya asked sorrowfully. She sounded so genuine, so sad for him. _It's a wonder he hasn't yet turned you in, after how many times you have failed him. It must only be a matter of time, now._

Merlin gasped aloud, feeling physically sick at her words.

"Merlin?"

His vision was blurry and his ears were filled with white noise. Freya was right, was the truly scary part. It was his fault. He had all these deaths on his head. Not even Lancelot could forgive him for that. Not even Gaius.

No one could forgive what he was responsible for.

He was truly alone.

"Merlin what's - "

_You don't have to be alone, Merlin._

Merlin didn't even realise he'd stopped his horse but suddenly he was turning it around and galloping away, towards the pull that was now stronger than ever.

"Merlin!"

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and felt the magic seep from his bones, time slowing around him. His horse carried him through the soundless fields, the only noise being Freya's voice in his head saying _yes, Merlin. Come to me._


	4. Chapter 4

**I should apologise for this chapter.**

**Sorry.**

**(Warning for suicidal themes for pretty much the rest of the story)**

"Merlin!" Arthur called out his servant's name in frustration as he turned his horse and suddenly galloped away. Before he could even urge his own horse after him, Merlin had disappeared as if right into thin air. "What the - "

The knights all looked around them in a moment of confusion before Gwaine cursed. "What the hell was that?!" he demanded. Arthur continued to stare in the direction Merlin had been, wondering the exact same thing.

"Sire!" Leon called, drawing his attention. The head knight had descended from his horse and was examining the grass. "There are hoof marks in the ground leading north."

"How can there be any sort of tracks?" asked Elyan incredulously. "He just vanished!"

Leon straightened up and shrugged helplessly, as at a loss as the rest of them. He looked to Arthur in askance.

Arthur shook himself out of the shock of seeing his friend vanish right in front of him and nodded. "We'll follow them and see where they lead," he said imperiously. He hoped his tone of voice managed to hide the small ripples of fear running through him. Merlin had been acting strangely for days, and now this? It had to be some kind of sorcery. Gods knew what some malicious magician wanted with a manservant, but Arthur wasn't particularly sure he wanted to find out.

"Sire," Lancelot said quietly, "perhaps not all of us should go."

"And why not?" snapped Gwaine before Arthur could answer.

Lancelot hesitated, his eyes to dropping to the ground. "We have no idea what we could be riding into. It might not be safe."

"Not safe for us but safe for a skinny manservant, Lancelot?" said Arthur incredulously. He would never have thought Lancelot to hesitate in helping a friend, especially not Merlin of all people. "Stay behind if you wish, but I am going after him."

"Of course not, sire," Lancelot said, but the worry did not fall from his face. Arthur nudged his horse in the right direction and took off, pride warming the cold worry in his stomach when all of his knights followed.

* * *

><p>Merlin finally slowed his horse as he reached the ruins of what appeared to have once been a temple of some kind. Most likely destroyed and ransacked during the days of the Great Purge, it now stood as rubble among the long grass, moss creeping through the cracks of the stone. One wall still stood, jagged at the top where the roof had collapsed and it was behind this wall where he dismounted and finally felt something in his heart settle; there was Freya, waiting for him. She had a small, soft smile on her face, the same smile she'd had when watching Merlin sheepishly offer her the little flower he'd conjured in the place of strawberries. Now he walked towards her with relief sagging his shoulders.<p>

"You're here," Freya murmured. "Will you stay with me this time?"

Merlin nodded eagerly. "I'm not leaving you again."

Freya's face lit up, her beauty only increasing. Merlin couldn't help the tingling that ran down his spine. Finally, they would be together. "There's just one more thing you have to do for me, Merlin. One more, small thing, and then nothing can come between us."

"Anything," Merlin breathed.

Freya held up one hand to present a dagger Merlin didn't remember seeing before. It's ornate wooden handle was covered in intricate carvings that belied the fatal sharpness of the glittering iron blade. Holding this dagger out to him, Freya murmured with a loving tone, "you must die."

Merlin slowly reached up to hold the dagger, closely examining the spirals etched into the handle. It appeared they continued on to the actual blade, right up to the tip. Her request, somehow, did not surprise him. Freya had died after all. It only made sense that he needed to as well.

And yet… "I don't know, Freya." There was this loud buzzing in his head, in his heart, through his whole body, like a swarm of angered bees fighting to break free. Something about this was… very wrong. "I have a purpose here. I know I do. I just can't remember…" there was a reason he was here, on this earth. He couldn't just abandon that, could he? And yet for the life of him, he couldn't recall what that reason was.

"You were willing to give that up to be with me last time, were you not?" Freya asked calmly. "Are you still willing?" Her voice turned cold. "Or do you no longer love me?"

Merlin looked back up from the dagger weighing heavily in his hand to drink in everything that Freya was. Beautiful, loving, kind, gentle… magical. They shared something, above that of attraction or affection. They were the same. "I do love you, Freya."

Freya stroked his cheek softly, before sliding her hand to his shoulder and gently pushing him to his knees. "Then do it, Merlin. Make it so we may be together forever." Merlin held the dagger out in front of him and the angry buzzing got louder. "You were right, Merlin. We are the same." He strengthened his grip and his resolve, aiming the dagger right at his stomach where it would slice easily through. "We are two sides of the same coin."

Merlin froze and the buzzing became almost unbearable. Two sides of the same coin… "Freya, this isn't - "

Suddenly hands were on him, pulling him back, wrenching the dagger out of his hands, and there in front of him, between him and Freya, was Arthur, and he had his sword out and…

"NO!" Merlin screamed, fighting the arms holding him in place, struggling uselessly as he watched Arthur kill the love of his life for a second time. The sword went cleanly through her chest and she shrieked up at him with pure malice in her eyes. Arthur jerked his sword back and stepped away. Merlin continued to thrash and scream, no match for the strength of those who continued to hold him, to yell in his ear. He tried to lash out with his magic, to push them away, but nothing happened and his panic grew. Freya fell to her knees and her gaze fell on him. There was nothing but hate there, pure anger and hate. Until it twisted to pain as suddenly her flesh began to bubble and boil, shifting over her bones. Before Merlin's very eyes, Freya turned to ash and dissipated in the wind.

Merlin turned to Arthur, focusing on him through the tears in his eyes. "You bastard! You bastard, you killed her!" He didn't see the hurt on Arthur's face, he didn't hear the placating murmurings of whoever it was that held him down. Nor did he see the shocked confusion when he continued, "you killed her again! Why?! Why couldn't you just stay out of this?! She's dead because of you!" Whatever strength had been keeping him fighting was gone as quickly as Freya was in front of him and he collapsed against the calloused hands. But he did not stop his desperate ramblings. "You killed her. You took her from me all over again. You killed her…"

And for a long time after that, the only sound in the air was the broken sobbing of a lost man.

* * *

><p>Arthur stared at Merlin in front of him, not having moved since he had slayed the banshee, not even after Percival had hesitantly let him go. Leon was holding the dagger at arm's length as if worried it would infect him. Lancelot was crouched by Merlin's still form, talking to him quietly and completely failing to get a response. Gwaine was on his other side with a hand on his shoulder, looking lost.<p>

_You bastard! You killed her!_ The angry screams would not stop replaying over and over in Arthur's head, no matter how desperately he wished they would. _You killed her again!_

For the life of him, Arthur couldn't remember a time when he felt so helpless. What had Merlin meant by that? _You took her from me all over again!_ He was sure he'd before never seen the girl the banshee had taken the form of. Certainly he hadn't killed her. He would have remembered killing someone obviously so close to his friend. Or rather, he wouldn't have done it in the first place.

Merlin continued to stare in front of him, his eyes unfocused. Gwaine finally stood and walked over to the prince. "Still nothing," he reported unnecessarily. He sounded as anxious as Arthur felt. "I don't understand. Leon says Elyan snapped out of it straight away."

Arthur shook his head. None of it made sense. When they'd finally caught up to Merlin, found him with a dagger in his hands a beautiful woman in front of him, the cold fear in his gut had been indescribable. If not for the quick movement of his knights around him he may have been frozen to the spot, watched as Merlin…

But it just didn't make sense! So perhaps they should have anticipated a second banshee, but why would it go after Merlin? Gaius had explained that the more powerful the banshee, the stronger its victim would be. So how was it that the one to target Merlin was one that could not only manage to torment him for days, but had managed to follow him out of the forest, so far from its home? How had it lured Merlin away, blinded him so well? How had it just taken him from thin air, right under their noses?

And why the hell hadn't Merlin snapped out of it?

_You took her from me all over again._

_You killed her!_

What in the gods' names was going on?

"We'll make camp here tonight," Arthur said. It wasn't nearing dark yet but he didn't see them moving any time soon. Leon, Elyan and Percival all nodded, immediately going about doing the tasks their manservant would usually do for them.

"There was a creek a small ways back," Elyan muttered. "I'll go water the horses."

Lancelot didn't move from Merlin's side, continuing to talk futilely. Merlin remained how he was, sitting still as stone. Gwaine and Arthur watched on.

"She must have been someone special," Gwaine sighed, his eyes mournful. But as he turned to face Arthur, they narrowed. "What did he mean, you killed her _again_?"

_You bastard! You killed her!_

Arthur sighed, a heavy weight settling on his shoulders. "I have no idea."

"Well you might want to get some idea, Arthur," said Gwaine. No mocking tone, no stupid nickname. Gwaine, for once in his life, was completely serious. "Because if Merlin doesn't snap out of it soon, I'll be finding out for myself." He patted Arthur on the shoulder. "And I'd hate to end up blaming you for this." The hand fell away and Gwaine walked back over to the boy on the ground. "I'd probably get in trouble for punching a prince."

Merlin did snap out of it, eventually. Arthur slept fitfully that night, only finally drifting off to dream of despair and hatred and screams. From the constant shifting he could hear around him, he knew he was not the only one struggling. But even as he woke up in the middle of night, there Merlin continued to sit, staring into nothing, shivering despite the multiple blankets Lancelot had draped him in. Arthur had wanted to help, but he couldn't bring himself to come near his manservant. Every time he tried, the accusations lit up in his mind all over again. _You killed her!_

It was only when he awoke with the rising sun that he finally saw a change. Merlin had a stick and was poking the fire with it, shifting logs about needlessly with dark shadows under his eyes. His hair was mussed up and he held an expression of melancholy, but he was moving, and Arthur would take any good sign he could.

"Morning." Apparently he was also responsive.

"Morning," Arthur replied hesitantly. None of the others had yet woken up, even Lancelot who had studiously refused to fall asleep for the longest time, choosing instead to watch over his friend. An awkward silence fell over them, though Arthur couldn't tell if Merlin even noticed. He just continued to poke the fire, avoiding Arthur's gaze. Finally, Arthur took a deep breath. "Merlin - "

"I'm sorry."

Arthur stared incredulously. "You… you what?"

"I said some pretty awful things, yesterday. I realise, now, what Fr… what that was. I shouldn't have accused you." Merlin's voice broke and he lowered his head further. "Sorry."

"Merlin…" Arthur was so out of his depth he didn't know which way was up. But for heaven's sake, he knew that was wrong. Quickly he stood up and walked over to sit next to his servant. Only now did he see the minute tremors running through Merlin's skinny frame. "Merlin, you have nothing to apologise for. You were enchanted. You were blinded by the evils of magic." Merlin's shaking only got worse and Arthur frowned. Attempting to act naturally, he brought an arm around to rest on Merlin's shoulders. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he repeated. "Magic's to blame for this. Not you."

For the life of him, he couldn't understand why it was at that moment that Merlin dropped his head into his hands and cried. But he stayed with his friend, rubbing his shoulder in what silent comfort he could offer.

**If you think things get happier from here... I have bad news for you.**


	5. Chapter 5

**This is the last of the chapters that were uploaded on the other account, which means after this one everyone's on the same page! I mean, you know. Other than me. Be reassured that I actually do know what's going to happen next.**

When Merlin felt more than heard Arthur sidle up beside him as he walked through the woods, one day's march from Camelot, he wasn't surprised. He knew some kind of talk about what happened would be inevitable, and was almost impressed Arthur had managed to wait three whole days before the interrogation. Lancelot had not been so patient, confronting him just before they rode away from those haunting temple ruins. Gwaine had systematically tried getting him to open up and only backed off earlier that day when Merlin had finally lost his patience and yelled at him.

Merlin really would have to apologise to Gwaine later.

But Arthur had kept his distance, albeit with often wary glances directed his way. Until tonight, after Merlin had snapped at them all to stop babying him and that he knew how to collect some damn firewood and to just let him do his job.

Really, Merlin had a lot of apologising to do.

Arthur walked next to him in silence for a while, and Merlin refused to be the one to break it. They occasionally paused and stooped to grab kindling of some kind, but otherwise no sound was made.

Finally, Arthur took a deep breath.

"How are you feeling?"

Merlin thought back over the past few days of travelling. He considered the many times he'd found himself zoning out only to be shaken aware by a concerned knight; the voice that still insisted on whispering through his mind, no longer the voice of his Freya but a nameless murmur; the constant memories that suddenly ambushed him of not only Freya but Will, Balinor, Morgana, the many screaming victims of Uther's war on sorcery that Merlin had been unable to save; the way he sometimes found his eyes drifting to the flames of their campfire, or the dagger that glinted from Leon's satchel on his horse, or that one river they had crossed that would be just deep enough to drown in if one were held down.

"Fine," was the answer he gave to Arthur. He didn't have to look to his side to know Arthur was rolling his eyes.

"You haven't seemed like it."

"Doesn't mean I'm not."

Arthur stopped and with a hand on Merlin's shoulder, forced him to do the same. It was the first physical contact they'd had since Arthur had tried to comfort him, rubbing his shoulder sympathetically while he insulted everything that Merlin was.

_You were blinded by the evils of magic._

Merlin didn't blame him for that. Arthur hadn't seen the good magic could do. Only the evil.

_Maybe magic _is_ evil, _the voice whispered tauntingly._ Maybe _you_ are evil._

Pushing those alien thoughts away, as he had done so every time they reared their ugly head, Merlin turned and faced Arthur properly. He did his best to meet the prince's eyes, but his own constantly darted away. "Who was that girl, Merlin?"

Merlin stamped down on the sudden need to fidget. "You know who she was, Arthur. A banshee, nothing more."

"You know that's not what I mean." Arthur's voice was strained - he was trying desperately to keep his patience.

Having had three full days of dodging questions and avoiding this exact conversation, Merlin couldn't help but feel he should have been more prepared in his answers. "It doesn't matter."

The grip on his shoulder tightened. "It certainly didn't seem that way. It looked like she mattered a great deal."

Merlin hated himself for the shivering that suddenly wrecked his body. "Yes, well. Doesn't mean anything now, does it?" He tried to pull away, not wanting Arthur to feel his trembling, but Arthur did not let go, his expression intensifying.

"Why are you lying to me?"

Merlin jerked his shoulder forcefully from Arthur's grip and stepped back. "Just leave it, Arthur." After a slight hesitation, he added "please."

Arthur studied him for a moment before crossing his arms and looking at the ground. "I've been thinking a lot, you know. I think… I think I might have seen her before." Merlin's eyes widened and he remained stock-still. Had Arthur seen Freya before she shifted? He'd never asked about it, could never bring himself to. It would have been dark, surely he couldn't have gotten a good look… "It took a while for me to realise it, and I'm not sure where exactly I know her from. Maybe it's a trick of my memory," Arthur paused and scrutinised his manservant, the expression on his face, "but I don't think so."

Merlin tried unsuccessfully to school his features. "What's your point, Arthur?" His voice remained impressively steady.

"When I… You said I'd killed her _again_. That I'd taken her from you… all over again." Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to slow his breathing. "What did you mean by that, Merlin?"

Would it be so bad to actually just tell Arthur? He didn't have to know everything. Just that Merlin had cared about the girl. Surely it shouldn't matter now, should it?

_No…_ that same, strange voice whispered. It was the same voice that had stopped him from talking to Gwaine, or even Lancelot who already knew so much. _He can't know. You mustn't let him in, Merlin. Don't let any of them in._ Merlin stared at Arthur, an internal battle flitting across his face. _He will know you let her out. She killed, Merlin. It will only make him hate you more._

_Arthur doesn't hate me!_

_Why shouldn't he hate you when he doesn't trust you? How could he, when you don't trust him?_ The voice wrapped around his mind, constricting his thoughts. _How could anyone trust you?_

_Magic's to blame for this_, Arthur had said. _Not you._ No, he didn't hate Merlin. But he would, if he knew what Merlin was.

The voice, again, won out. "I was under a spell, Arthur. You can't expect me to have made sense."

Arthur's shoulders dropped. He seemed to deflate at Merlin's denial. There was a long pause as the two stared each other down. "Fine," Arthur finally said through gritted teeth. "If that's really all you have to say… fine." He turned and stalked off back to where they had set up camp for the night. Merlin watched him go, feeling oddly hollow at the dismissal. He'd wanted Arthur to give up, hadn't he? This was good.

"I don't need his comfort," Merlin muttered to himself, turning around and continuing his search for firewood.

_You don't deserve it,_ the voice hissed in reply.

* * *

><p><em>"Merlin? Sit up. Take your shirt off."<em>

_Merlin forced himself up from where he'd been lying forlornly on his bed, his shoulder stinging as he did so. Okay, so maybe getting into another fight with the prince of Camelot had not been the best idea. But he could have taken him! If he'd only been able to use his magic properly…_

_Gaius sat down next to him, dousing a small cloth in something unfamiliar as Merlin dragged his shirt over his shoulders and fiddled with it in his hands. "You don't know why I was born like this, do you?"_

_Gaius hesitated at the question before dabbing the cloth against his wound. It didn't hurt like he'd expected it to._

_"No."_

_"I'm not a monster, am I?" he forced the tone of humour into his voice even as he found himself unable to meet Gaius' eyes. It was a question that had plagued him ever since he was a few years old and Hunith had dragged him inside fearfully after he turned all the leaves of a tree to fluttering moths. Realising Gaius was yet to answer him, he finally looked up and saw the older man's mouth was set in a thin line. "Gaius?"_

_The physician sighed and his shoulders drooped. The cloth fell away from his shoulder and only now did it begin to hurt. "I'm afraid you are, Merlin."_

_Despite his doubts, Merlin was taken aback. "But I haven't done anything wrong!"_

_Gaius' eyebrow went up. "Nothing? You've done nothing wrong?" The light filtering through the bedroom window faded as thunder began to rumble outside. Faces flashed before Merlin's eyes, faces of people he loved and people he didn't know, people he couldn't save, people he'd killed. Leon, Percival, Elyan, all looking at him with disgust. Gwaine and Arthur, showing hatred and betrayal. Lancelot, shaking his head._

_"You're not honourable, Merlin," he said as if saddened by the words. As if Merlin had disappointed him._

_"Lancelot - please - " Merlin choked, tears welling in his eyes. "You're my friend!"_

_"I cannot be your friend," Lancelot said, his face hardening. "No one could be your friend. We cannot be friends with someone we cannot trust."_

_"You can trust me!" cried Merlin. "I'm not evil! I swear to you, please, I'm not - "_

_"You have no place here," and it was Arthur hissing the hateful words. "Go be where you belong!"_

Merlin jumped awake, gasping in deep lungfuls of air with the image of Freya's kind face imprinted on the back of his eyelids.

Arthur and the knights slept soundly around him.

* * *

><p>It was with pure exhaustion that Merlin took the stairs to his guardian's chambers. The rest of the ride to Camelot had been silent and uncomfortable and Merlin was quite frankly tired of the looks the others had been sending his way. Stepping through the door and seeing the physician grinding some kind of leaf into dust at the small wooden table, however, did not bring the usual sense of comfort he expected. The anxious fluttering in his stomach that had been accompanying him for days did not settle down. His nightmare bubbled to the surface but he forced himself to ignore the dread it brought. "Hey Gaius," he said with a tired sigh.<p>

Gaius turned and his face lit up at the sight of his ward. "Merlin! Welcome back, my boy." He rushed forward and Merlin let himself be enveloped in a warm hug. "I trust the quest went well, then?" He stepped back to look over his boy, a trained eye searching for injuries and finding none. "The banshee is dead?"

Merlin nodded, forcing the smile to stay on his face. "Lancelot killed it. It tried to get Elyan, but he's okay."

Gaius smiled with relief. "Wonderful. Banshees are dangerous creatures. I couldn't help but be worried."

_Worried you would expose yourself. Worried you would let someone else down._

Merlin flinched at the unbidden thoughts and grinned at Gaius. "Nope. Was surprisingly easy, really." The fluttering in his stomach seemed to grow at the lie. He could faintly feel the buzzing start back up.

Gaius gestured towards the table. "Well, let me make you something to eat and you can tell me about it."

Merlin looked past him to the steps up to his room. "Actually Gaius, I'm pretty tired. All that riding on horseback…" he didn't need to fake the wince at the thought. "Think I'm just going to lie down for a while."

"Oh." Gaius seemed surprised, but nodded. "Go on, then. I'll call you for dinner later. Has Arthur given you the day off?"

Arthur had dismissed him with barely a word once they'd rode through the city gates. "Yeah, said he didn't want me passing out in the stables," Merlin replied instead.

With that, he made a beeline for his room, closing his door firmly behind him. Dropping his pack to the floor unceremoniously, he collapsed onto his bed and turned his gaze out the open window, where noise from the goings on of a late afternoon in Camelot drifted up to him. Smoke rose from chimneys in the lower town and the sun shone heavily down on the citadel. Outside, things were peaceful and happy.

Merlin swivelled his eyes to stare at the ceiling. He didn't move again before he was called down to dinner.

* * *

><p>Arthur sat across from his father, having just filled him in on the details of their quest. There had been no response, and Arthur had not expected one. Uther only continued to stare out the window, the sun's rays highlighting the lines on his face, the greys of his hair. A finger would occasionally twitch, but there was no other movement from Uther to indicate he could even hear his son. Arthur felt he would never get used to seeing his father like this, so weak and defeated when once he had been so full of fight. There was a time when Arthur believed nothing could slow the king down. Uther had not let anything get in his way from ruling how he thought was best. Though Arthur had not always agreed with Uther's decisions, he had admired the determination his father demonstrated. It was something he always did his best to imitate, but never could quite seem to get the hang of.<p>

Even now, with the responsibility of an entire kingdom essentially resting in his hands, he need the constant council of his uncle to feel assured. He didn't know if he would have managed this long without Agravaine.

Without him and Merlin, if Arthur was being completely honest. As his thoughts turned to the manservant his anger made a reappearance, the anger that bloomed to cover the hurt and worry he'd now been feeling for days. Merlin had lied to him. He'd shut not only Arthur out but all of the knights, and he'd lied practically every time he'd opened his mouth since the banshee had attacked. He hadn't recovered in the way Elyan had. It was almost as if the banshee was still haunting him.

Arthur stood, patting his hand on top of his father's before leaving the room. It wasn't possible. He'd killed the banshee himself. It could no longer hurt his friend.

_You bastard! You killed her!_ Merlin's wild yells and unadulterated sobbing filled his head. No. The banshee may be dead, but it was still hurting Merlin.

Hell, it was still hurting him.

"Arthur!"

Arthur looked up from his musings and saw Gwen dashing up the corridor towards him, her face alight with happiness. Even now, her smile managed to bring one to his own face.

"Guinevere." His beloved reached him and threw her arms around him in a hug which he returned gratefully. "You have no idea how good it is to see you."

Gwen leaned back and looked up into his face, concern already settling on her delicate features. "Are you alright? I already saw Elyan, he told me everything that happened."

Arthur winced at that. "That means…"

"He told me about our father, yes," she admitted, finally pulling back to stand on her own. Her face had turned sad but her voice remained steady. "I… I hate that he had to see that."

"I know," Arthur murmured. Yelling and accusations again filled his mind. "That creature is nothing but torment."

Gwen gripped his hand. "And he told me about Merlin. How awful."

Arthur held her hand tightly. He remembered the despair and anger on his friend's face, directed at him for saving his life. "You have no idea," he whispered. They stood like that for a while, simply soaking up each other's presence after two weeks of departure. Finally, Arthur asked hesitantly, "did you know of… of a woman in Merlin's life? One especially close to him?"

Gwen shook her head sadly. "I never met anyone of that nature, and Merlin never told me…" she sighed. "I have no idea who it could have been."

At least it had not just been him Merlin had been keeping secrets from. Arthur nodded and reluctantly let go, instantly missing the warmth of her hand in his. He still needed to update Agravaine before the day was through.


	6. Chapter 6

**Few things. Firstly, I have to apologise - I completely forgot to add trigger warnings earlier. I am so sorry. I'm going to go back and edit that now, but here's one more, in case it's not obvious by this point: there will be suicidal themes pretty much from here on out.**

**Secondly, updates are going to be slower from now on. This is the last chapter I had readily written, and aside from that, I'm about to go camping for four days. No more day-to-day chapters. Sorry about that as well.**

**Lastly, I'm slightly worried I'm rushing the story, plot-wise. But I really didn't want to drag it out, as I feel there's enough angst and emotional hurt/comfort without stretching it out. So, hopefully I'm not speeding through this too quickly, but I'd love to hear your opinion.**

**Anyways, thanks for all of your support, as always! Enjoy!**

_Before his eyes lay a desolate wasteland littered with bodies. Merlin looked on in anguish at the sight. The sky glowed red over the barren land. Nothing, no one moved. There were no trees, no grass, no creeks or rivers or critters crawling through the undergrowth. No life. Only death._

_All because of him._

_Merlin stumbled forward, his legs weak. How had this happened? How had he let this happen?_

_He tripped over something solid and looked down. His blood turned to ice. There lay Arthur, unblinking in the fiery sunlight._

_"No," Merlin croaked. "No. You can't be... I'm meant to protect you!" He looked around hopelessly for help, knowing he would not find it._

_A hand on his ankle startled him and he looked down again. Arthur was looking up at him, his lips moving, and Merlin could have cried in relief. Arthur was alive!_

_The prince was trying to say something. Merlin knelt down to hear him, but only heard ragged breaths. Blood dribbled from Arthur's mouth._

_"What is it, Arthur?" Merlin asked, trying not to panic. He could save Arthur, just like he always had. It was his job, right? His destiny. He leaned forward, straining his ears._

_Finally Arthur's words reached him. "You failed me." Merlin flinched and straightened his back, but Arthur was not finished. "You were meant to protect me."_

_"I... I did, Arthur. I have. I always have!"_

_The blood now running down Arthur's chin, however, proved otherwise. "You are destined to fail." He chuckled despite his shortening breaths. "It seems you are destined to watch your loved ones die."_

_Merlin shook his head, denying the truth, ignoring the tears in his eyes. "No. Not this time." He reached forward, a spell on his lips, ready to heal Arthur and get them away from this horrid place. But Arthur shoved his hands away._

_"Do not touch me, sorcerer!" he snapped. His chest began to stutter as he tried taking another breath._

_"But Arthur - "_

_"You are evil, Merlin. You are wrong. I would rather die than live by your hands."_

_The scene faded as Merlin cried, rejected and alone. Kilgarrah's words echoed in his mind._

_"No one can choose their destiny, Merlin. And no one can escape it."_

Merlin awoke with a gasp, feeling as though a knife had been shoved through his gut. The dregs of his nightmare clung to the corners of his brain, refusing to completely fade. His hands fisted his sheets as he tried to regain control over his breathing, the chill of midnight air biting against the sweat on his brow and running down his neck.

_You don't have to be alone, Merlin…_

_I love you, Merlin…_

Freya's voice resounded in his ears. He forced himself not to listen, he reminded himself it hadn't been her. But still…

Finally his ragged breathing slowed, but his hands shook and he still felt too hot. Throwing the blanket off of him, Merlin rested his bare feet on the cold floor. There would be no more sleeping for him tonight.

With surprising control, Merlin snuck down into the physician's main room and padded quietly past Gaius' sleeping form to the door. His nightshirt hung loosely off him, rustling slightly with the movement. With a click of the latch Merlin was closing the door behind him and trotting down the steps to the castle halls. He didn't know where he was going, nor did he care. He just needed to move, to combat the thoughts battering against his skull.

Unfortunately, it wasn't working.

_Are you sure that was a dream?_ The voice hummed ponderously. _Perhaps it was a vision. A warning of what's to come._ Merlin quickened his pace, silently begging the voice to go away, to shut up and leave him alone. _It's more than you deserve._

Merlin was running now. When had he started thinking like this? When had those doubts he usually managed to hide or ignore suddenly become facts in his head? He'd used to be able to convince himself he was doing the right thing. Yes, he'd made mistakes. But he'd done good too, hadn't he? He'd… he'd…

The warlock shook his head. He couldn't remember. It was like someone had erected a wall in his head that he couldn't climb over. The buzzing had started up again, some kind of force vibrating deep within his soul. The edges of his vision were dark, even in the shadowed halls as he ran, his feet pounding against the stone. The thoughts, the fears chased after him, and he ran faster.

Next thing he knew he was bursting out onto the eastern wall-walk, the cold night air fresh against his skin.

He kept going back to what Freya - to what the banshee had said.

_He doesn't know you, Merlin. None of them do._

Why couldn't he shake this? He knew the banshee was evil. It had been enchanting him, telling him anything it could to convince him to die.

_It's a wonder he hasn't turned you in yet, after how many times you have failed him._

It hadn't been real. It hadn't been Freya.

_We were going to go far away, and be together. Somewhere we could be accepted, be ourselves. Somewhere we could be safe, and not have to hide who we were._

_You promised me._

It didn't matter if it wasn't real; the banshee was right.

_Magic's to blame for this._

_The evils of magic._

Merlin looked up at the stars, twinkling down at him as if there weren't a care in the world. His feet kept moving as a light breeze whipped at his clothes. He cursed himself and his weakness as more tears slid down his cheeks. Arthur was right too.

Merlin was alone. Merlin deserved to be alone.

He reached the wall's parapet and looked below him. It was a long drop.

_You must die._

It was right. The banshee was right.

The buzzing reached a peak as he climbed onto the parapet. His toes met the open air. He leaned forward.

_You don't have to be alone._

* * *

><p>"Ah, come on Leon! Where's your sense of adventure?"<p>

"I hardly think dying Arthur's hair purple counts as an adventure."

"Maybe, but avoiding his wrath when he finds out could certainly be considered as one."

Leon worked hard at keeping the smile off his face. Really, Gwaine's little prank could probably be seen as treason. Still. The image was more than a little amusing. Not that he'd ever admit it.

The two were patrolling along the castle's main wall-walk, perhaps trying harder at actually keeping their eyes open than at keeping them peeled for potential threats. As if their quest had not been draining enough; first night back and they were already on roster for watch. Gwaine was keeping them awake by trying to think of ways to cheer up Merlin. Unfortunately, so far, each idea centred around making Arthur's life miserable and came with the consequences of being thrown in the stocks - at least.

"Hello, you two." Gwen fell into step beside Leon and smiled in greeting. "Welcome back."

"My fair lady Gwen, it was worth the ride just to see your face again." Having long gotten used to Gwaine's shameless flirting, the maid just rolled her eyes.

Leon was far more diplomatic, as always. "How are you, Guinevere?"

Her smile dropped and she shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. I'm a bit worried."

"About anything in particular?"

A sigh preceded Gwen's words. "Elyan. Arthur. Merlin." She fidgeted with the sleeve of her dress. "I know every time you lot go charging off it will be dangerous and someone may get hurt… or worse… but it doesn't make it any better when something actually does go wrong."

Leon nodded grimly. "Yes. The banshees are dead but we did not get away unscathed."

"We never get away unscathed," Gwaine argued. "Think about it! Just a routine patrol will end in bandits or mercenaries or evil creatures spat out of hell's mouth. But we do always get through it." He sounded determined as he continued "just as we will get through this. Even if I have to bodily drag Merlin down to the tavern - "

"Merlin!"

Suddenly Gwen was running, her feet thundering against the stone, and when Leon looked ahead to see what she had seen, he too was running. Gwaine was right beside him, swearing under his breath.

There ahead of them, standing precariously on the parapet in his night clothes and looking at the drop below him, was Merlin. He didn't seem to hear Gwen's cry. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but Leon thought he saw his friend lean forward ever so slightly.

But even as he tipped forward, Gwen reached him and snatched at his arm. She yelled out at the sudden weight as Merlin fell but the knights were by her side in a split-second, gripping his other arm for dear life. Merlin howled, looking up at them with pure despair. His wide eyes were clouded over - literally. Faint tendrils of black smoke appeared to be swirling around in his eyes. Leon didn't have time to figure out if it was just a trick of the light. He was too busy trying not lose his grip as the manservant struggled, shouting and cursing at them, trying to wrench free.

"Let me go! Damn you all, let me go!"

"Merlin - " Gwen's voice broke, tears sliding down her cheeks. "Merlin, please - "

Without a word Gwaine forced her out of the way so he could grab a better hold of Merlin, and together the two knights hauled him up back over the edge. It was more difficult than it should have been with a man of Merlin's size, but he continued to fight, jerking his body every which way. Leon only dug his fingers in deeper. He would not let go, he was not going to lose Merlin, he was not going to let any of them lose Merlin.

Finally they managed to get Merlin onto the solid ground of the wall-walk, but were not rewarded with any reprieve. It took the both of them to just hold him down so he could not jump up and try again.

"Dammit, Merlin, listen to me!" shouted Gwaine over Merlin's hysterics. "This is not you! Just bloody stop before you do something we all regret, you damn arse!"

"Gwaine," panted Leon. His tirade wasn't helping. "We have to - "

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it," Gwaine snapped, and together they pulled Merlin to his feet, holding tightly onto him the whole time. Gwen was standing off to the side, a trembling hand up to her face.

"What's wrong with him?" she asked in a shaky voice, "is… is it the banshee? Could it still be alive?"

"I'm not sure," Leon remembered the ominous shadows in Merlin's eyes. "But Gwaine's right, this isn't him. Get Gaius, would you?" He grunted as Merlin managed to dig a sharp elbow into his side and began dragging him to the closest stairs into the castle. By this point the younger man was shouting gibberish; strange, foreign words that Leon had not heard before. Still, they unsettled him.

"Where - " Gwen forced herself to look away from her struggling friend. "Where should I bring him to?"

Leon grimaced. "The dungeons."

* * *

><p>Gwaine stared ahead of them, musty cells all shrouded in darkness lined up on either side of the corridor. "I can't do this."<p>

Leon attempted to look at his fellow knight. It was difficult with a desperate manservant in between them, still fighting desperately to be let go but obviously tiring. "You have a better idea?"

"I'm not locking my friend in a cell like a criminal!"

"He needs to be restrained, Gwaine. I don't like it either, but would you prefer the alternative?"

Images of Merlin standing back up on that parapet flashed through Gwaine's mind, unbidden. He didn't reply but glared ahead of him and allowed Leon to direct them to one of the little rooms. It was at least one of those closer to the entrance, with more light filtering through. They threw Merlin through the door as gently as they could and slammed it behind him quickly - almost not quickly enough, with him slamming against the bars as fast as he could turn around.

Gwaine stared at the swirling darkness in his best friend's eyes and tried not to let his anger get the best of him. This was not Merlin. This was not the lad he'd met throwing a jug over a bully's head in an out-of-the-way tavern. He couldn't blame Merlin for his actions.

All the same… "How could you do this, Merlin?"

Merlin only stared back at him, full of defeat and despair. Finally, he stepped back and fell to the ground, leaning against the back wall of the cell. He brought his eyes to his knees and did not move.

It remained silent for a while - Gwaine could not be sure how long they stayed that way. Leon was looking at the dusty floor - in guilt or shame or disappointment, who knew - and Merlin continued to glare at his knees. His hand would occasionally twitch, or his jaw, or his foot. He was in deep concentration over something. Judging his earlier actions, Gwaine hated to think just what he was focusing on.

"Where is he?"

Both knights looked up in relief to see Gaius hurrying down the steps, closely followed by not only Gwen but Arthur, Elyan, Lancelot and Percival. Lancelot was still in his clothes from the previous day.

"I thought they should know," Gwen explained apprehensively.

They all joined Gwaine and Leon outside of Merlin's cell. "Oh, Merlin…" Lancelot breathed. Arthur wrapped a hand around the bars, watching his friend ignore them all.

Gaius inhaled a deep breath before asking for the door to be opened. Leon did so warily, and shut it behind the physician as soon as he had entered, but Merlin made no move to escape. He made no move at all. He had yet to acknowledge their presence. Gaius crouched down by his ward and turned back to those waiting for answers. "I would appreciate a moment with him alone," he said in a tone that brooked no arguments.

The knights slowly began to file out, walking into the room usually occupied by guards to wait. It was empty save for them tonight. There weren't any prisoners to be guarding.

Just Merlin.

Finally, only Lancelot and Arthur stayed. With a glare from Gaius, Arthur finally relented and let go of the bars, turning to leave. He raised a pointed eyebrow at Lancelot, who had not yet made a move to leave.

Hesitating, the knight explained "I thought I might be able to… help." He looked at Gaius pointedly.

But Gaius was resolute. "That won't be necessary. I need to examine my ward, and to do that I will need privacy."

Lancelot nodded, chagrined, and followed Arthur to join the others. There they waited in apprehension to hear if, somehow, the banshee was still haunting Merlin - or if there was another reason for his second attempt at death.


	7. Chapter 7

Gaius crouched down by his ward, barely wincing at the protests of his bad knee. Merlin was staring without seeing. He didn't acknowledge Gaius' presence. Didn't shift in recognition. Just continued to stare at his knees. He sighed, and brought a hand up to squeeze the boy's shoulder.

Merlin flinched away.

Now it was Gaius' turn to stare, his hand slowly falling. Merlin flinched. He _flinched_.

From _Gaius_.

Suddenly the old physician was faced with confliction - he needed to get closer if he wanted to inspect Merlin, to find out what in all the gods' names had gone wrong with his boy; but he didn't want to scare Merlin.

Why would Merlin be scared of _him_?

He narrowed his eyes and leaned closer, albeit at a snail's pace. Merlin didn't even look at him, but he shrunk in on himself, pushing back against the wall as if hoping he could fade into it.

"Merlin," Gaius whispered. His chest hurt at the sight in front of him. "What's happened to you, my boy?"

Merlin shook his head frantically, bringing his knees to his chest and tightening his arms around them. His face was shrouded in the shadows of the cell and his breath came out in short, sharp bursts.

Gaius sat back on his haunches, trying to figure out this sudden drastic change that was Merlin. Bright, happy, vivacious Merlin. Smart, clumsy, friendly Merlin. Loyal Merlin.

Brave Merlin.

This was not the Merlin that had stumbled into his chambers all those years ago. This was not the Merlin that had faced a dragon beside his prince, unknowing of the power he held. This was not the Merlin that took an immortal army head-on in the hopes of saving those he loved.

"What happened?" Gaius repeated.

The breaths came faster, louder. Gaius brought a hand to Merlin's chest, worried he was hyperventilating, but Merlin only scooted further away. His face fell into a pockmark of moonlight filtering through the small dungeon window, and finally Gaius realised; Merlin wasn't hyperventilating. He was talking.

Perhaps frantic whispering was a better description. Merlin's mouth was moving with the speed of a frightened horse, but he was so quiet.

Aware of the growing tension in Merlin's shoulders, Gaius shuffled backwards, giving him room. He was desperate to understand. When Gwen had found him, teary-eyed, and told him what she had seen up on the castle wall… what Merlin had been about to do...

No. That was not his Merlin. Merlin would never give up. Never.

The decision to retreat appeared to be the right idea. Merlin's breathy whispers got louder. He was still quiet, his voice still small, as if frightened to be cut off at any moment. But Gaius could hear the words.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, don't hurt me, I didn't mean to, I didn't, I'm sorry, please…"

It took all of Gaius' strength not to rush forward and wrap his arms around his boy there and then. His stomach roiled and he felt a strong need to be sick.

"Don't hate me, I'll go away, I'll leave, don't hate me, I'm sorry…"

"Merlin," Gaius croaked. His eyes burned.

Merlin finally looked up at him, as if only seeing him for the first time. His own eyes widened, he began to shiver, and he spoke faster than before. His words tangled together and stumbled over each other.

"Gaius, I tried, I - I kept trying to do better, I did, but I keep failing! And they'll all know, they'll all hate me - they're my friends, but they'll hate me, like you probably hate me - I'm sorry, Gaius, I can't do this, I can't keep failing, I don't want them to hate me but I have magic and I've lied and - and I've _killed_, Gaius, and I have _magic_ -" and Gaius whipped his head around, fearful, hoping the knights were still out of earshot "-and magic is evil but I can't give up magic and - and I'm _evil_, Gaius, I'm _wrong_ - "

Merlin stuttered to a halt, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head, hiding his face in his knees.

"I don't belong here," he whispered. "I have magic. Magic doesn't belong here. I can't keep living this lie." His chest heaved. His words were muffled. "I can't live like this."

Gaius stared. He watched as his boy trembled and fell apart at the seams, speaking words he never thought he would hear. A memory crept in from the back of his mind, of Merlin's first week in Camelot, when he was still lost and confused about his magic, about his purpose. He remembered Merlin's chilling words, spoken in fear and resignation.

_If I can't use magic, I might as well die._

No, this wasn't his Merlin. But Merlin _was_ in there. And Gaius suddenly knew what had so horribly damaged him. He knew the moment he saw Merlin's eyes in the moonlight, pools of swirling shadows clouding over pure blue that made his blood run cold.

* * *

><p>The heavy silence that had fallen over Arthur and his knights was only broken by Gaius' quiet murmurings from the cell, and Merlin's panicked breathing. They couldn't hear what was said so quietly, so quickly. Every one of Arthur's muscles were taut as he forced himself to stay where he was, to not storm over to his manservant and demand answers. To not shout and shake his friend with frustration, with fear.<p>

Merlin couldn't do this to them. He couldn't do this to Arthur.

_Why would he do this?_

His body shook. Why hadn't he been there to stop him?

The clang of the cell door shutting echoed in the quiet, shaking them all from their thoughts. Gaius stalked towards them, looking more strained than Arthur had ever seen him. Arthur had grown up around the older man, listened to his stories, observed him curiously as he mixed various colourful substances together in his room. As he'd gotten older, he'd begun to notice the tight line of Gaius' lips during council meetings, at celebratory feasts, as he listened to Uther's latest declaration or gently argued against his latest idea. But Gaius had always been adept at covering his emotions behind a mask of professionalism. He was famous for his calm and collected nature in even the worst of crises.

Now, Arthur could clearly see Gaius was afraid. And angry.

"Why was I not informed the banshee targeted him?"

"What? Didn't Merlin say - " Arthur stopped and grimaced. Of course not. Merlin hadn't discussed the banshee with anyone, despite all their best efforts. Of course the idiot wouldn't bring it up to Gaius either.

"Clearly, sire, Merlin is not in his right mind," Gaius said in clipped tones. "He has been completely overwhelmed by the creature. Why is it not dead?"

"It is, Gaius," Leon spoke quietly. "Arthur killed it."

Gaius furrowed his brow and looked back into the dark hall of cells. "Are you absolutely certain?"

Arthur nodded stiffly. "I stabbed her - it - through the heart."

"It vanished just like the one that targeted Elyan," Lancelot added. Elyan's gaze fell to the ground. Gwen grabbed his hand gently. "Only… Merlin didn't come out of it like Elyan did."

Gaius looked back at them all. His face was pinched with worry, and he let out a small huff of breath. "It would seem Merlin's demon was much bigger than Elyan's." When Arthur raised an eyebrow, Gaius explained. "Every time a banshee claims another soul, it gets stronger, more powerful. The more power a banshee has, the better it can latch on to you. It will go deeper, find your very worst insecurities and haunted memories, and use them against you." He hesitated before continuing, "there is the theory that if a banshee has enough power, its effects will last even after it is gone."

"So he's still under the damn thing's spell," Arthur summarised.

"I'm afraid so, sire."

"Then how the hell do we fix it?" Gwaine asked, his voice deep and angry. His hands were trembling by his sides.

Gaius swept his gaze over them all before settling back on Arthur. His eyes were dark, and when he spoke, it was with a careful tone. "We must settle those insecurities."

Arthur stared back at his old friend. When Gaius did not elaborate, he threw his arms up in frustration. "Which are what, exactly? It's not as if he's been forthcoming, Gaius. He won't talk to us. How are we supposed to help him if we don't even understand what's wrong?"

"Merlin doesn't have insecurities," scoffed Elyan. "I've never met someone so happy all the damn time." He quickly became subdued and added "I mean… until…"

Gwaine shook his head. "Things get to him. He doesn't like to let on, but I've had to pull him out of his own mind a few times. Gets all quiet, drifts off as if he's in a whole other realm."

"It must be the girl," Percival murmured. "Someone he lost. Perhaps she is someone he doesn't want to live without."

Arthur folded his arms against his chest. If she was so important, why had Arthur never even heard of her? Except…

_You bastard! You killed her!_

Her face drifted across his vision. There really had been something familiar about her. But why would he have killed her? Wouldn't he remember that? And why had Merlin never confronted him about it before?

He clenched his jaw when he couldn't help the petulant thought from bubbling up; _Why would Merlin die for her when he still has us?_

Lancelot was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Gaius…" he started, and glanced towards Merlin's cell before locking eyes with the physician. "What if we can't… solve his... insecurities?"

Gaius stared at the knight. He wasn't the only one. Arthur scrutinised Lancelot and something of a realisation hit him.

Lancelot knew something they did not.

"We'll leave you to talk, Gaius," he said.

Gwaine straightened and immediately argued "I'm not going anywhere."

Arthur glared at his knight. "We have things to discuss."

"So go discuss it. I'll be staying with my friend here, thank you very much." Gwaine grinned, but it was not his usual carefree smile. "I'll have a go at getting through that thick head of his, yeah?"

Whatever. Arthur was too tired to argue. Let Gwaine stay. Perhaps it would do Merlin good to have a friend nearby. He gestured for the other knights to follow him, away from the dungeons and up the stairs into the well-lit halls of the castle. Gwen trailed behind as well, with fervent glances over her shoulder. Finally he paused and turned to face them. They were all looking grim. They were all scared for their friend. They were all clueless on how they could help. Except, perhaps…

"What do you know, Lancelot?"

Lancelot jumped at being directly addressed and immediately looked guilty. It wasn't a completely unfamiliar expression on the peasant-knight's face; he was famously hard on himself, always feeling he could have done better, fought harder, somehow been a more noble knight. Very rarely, he'd get that look about him after spending too much time with Merlin, no doubt having been roped into some kind of prank or another. But this was the first time Arthur truly wondered if perhaps he actually deserved that guilt. "Well?"

"I don't, sire," Lancelot finally said softly. "I'm as at a loss as - "

"Do not lie to me, Lancelot." Arthur growled. "This is no time to be playing games or attempting to save Merlin from embarrassment."

"I know that, sire."

"Then tell us what you know." _Tell us why you're convinced he is beyond help._ Arthur rolled his shoulders back, trying to keep his voice steady. "I am not blind to the way you two whisper like gossiping maids. I know you share secrets." And that had always hurt, just a little, because Merlin knew everything about Arthur, and seeing the way he and Lancelot would sometimes sneak glances or trade quiet words had caused him to realise he did not know as much about Merlin. The last few days were proof of that, if nothing else.

Gwen frowned at Lancelot, who bowed his head. He looked truly regretful for his next words. "I am sorry, sire, but I cannot speak for Merlin. I cannot betray his trust."

The anger Arthur had been trying to rein in since he had heard Merlin had tried to jump - hell, since he had seen Merlin on his knees with a knife in his hand and a beautiful woman above him - was finally beginning to bubble out of control. He could hear his voice raising as he asked "even at the cost of his life?"

Leon opened his mouth to intervene but Lancelot spoke over him, guilt replaced by determination as he finally met Arthur's eyes. "In the hope of preserving it."

"Stop speaking in riddles! Your friend is locked in a damn cell to stop him from bloody _killing himself_, and you - "

"Is he not your friend too?"

"Of course he is! Which is exactly why - "

"Arthur? What is the meaning of this?"

Arthur whirled around to see Agravaine, looking concerned and more than a touch confused. He once again tried to take control of his temper, sucking it in with a deep breath. "Uncle. What are you doing here?"

"I heard of your manservant's misfortune. I was hoping I may speak with him."

Arthur glanced at Gwen, who looked just as surprised as he felt, which meant she hadn't told him. The castle was adept at quickly spreading rumours, but this was oddly fast for the dead of night. He looked back at his uncle. "Now's not really a great time." But Agravaine waved his hand disarmingly.

"Nonsense. I have come across some knowledge of banshees in my time before Camelot. Perhaps I can assist Gaius."

And really, they could use all the help they could get. Finally, Arthur nodded and gestured towards the cells in aquiesence. "Thank you, Uncle." Agravaine inclined his head with a sympathetic smile and brushed past the tense group, trotting down the stairs as if without a care in the world. For just one moment, Arthur envied him.

"Sire," Lancelot was speaking again. He paused, rubbed his hands together nervously, and tried again. "Arthur. If… there was a way you _could_ help Merlin… If there was a way you could help him… get over his fears, would you do it?"

The prince-regent narrowed his eyes. "Of course I would."

But Lancelot shook his head. "I mean, would you do anything to help him? What if… what if to save Merlin, you had to… what if you had to change laws for him? Or fight your father?"

Arthur stared. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"How far would you go for Merlin, Arthur?"

It would be a while before Lancelot got his answer. For, right at that moment, there was a thundering through the castle as somewhere downstairs, something exploded.


	8. Chapter 8

**I was so hasty with finally updating last time that I forgot to add Author's Notes. Oops.**

**I'm so sorry for how slow the updates are right now. I made a last-minute decision to go to university, and have spent the months since trying to prepare. It's left me very busy, tired and stressed, and as a result, pretty uninspired. But I still love writing, and I don't want to just abandon my story, so I'm not giving up. I just... will probably continue to be quite slow. Seriously, sorry about that.**

**Thanks so much for all of your patience, Christmas wishes and even concern. I promise I am okay. It's just suddenly a very hectic time in my life. And you all have been really wonderful about it, and I appreciate that so much. Now, finally, on with the story!**

Gwaine sat down cross-legged just outside of Merlin's cell. Gaius hovered behind him nervously, but Gwaine only focused on his friend in front of him.

Merlin's long fingers were tapping against his knees, folded up under his chin, and he seemed to be glaring at him. Not a reassuring way to begin a conversation, but Gwaine could see he didn't have much choice.

"We're going to sort this out, my friend," he muttered. "We'll make you better, I promise." No response. Gwaine didn't even know if Merlin was listening. He just kept glaring, as if Gwaine had done him some personal wrong. The knight briefly wondered if Merlin was angry at him for saving his life. The idea left a sour taste in his mouth. "I don't suppose you want to just tell us what's eating away at that brain of yours?"

Silence. No. Of course not. It couldn't be that simple.

Gwaine had always been aware of some kind of heavy weight on his friend's shoulders. In quiet moments, when Merlin paused to breathe between his servant duties and his jobs for Gaius and his running around doing who knew what, it was almost a tangible thing, pulling him down, making his shoulders droop and his body sag. Gwaine had carefully brought it up only once; Merlin distanced himself immediately, laughing off Gwaine's concerns and dodging his questions under the guise of some errand or other, and had only been more forcibly cheery the next time Gwaine saw him. So Gwaine avoided mentioning it again, but he still tried to be there for the younger man. Nights at the tavern, singing on patrols, jokes at the expense of their prince - all an attempt to put a real smile on Merlin's face. The kind of smile he'd wore when the two had first met. When he didn't appear to be carrying the whole world on his skinny back.

Looking at Merlin now, Gwaine couldn't help but feel he'd somehow failed.

"I'm sorry, Merlin."

* * *

><p>Merlin, meanwhile, was in fact not glaring at Gwaine. He was glaring at the locked door of his cell and demanding it to open. Unlock the latch or blast the whole thing off its hinges, he didn't care. He just wanted out. He wanted out of this cell, out of the dungeons and back up on the wall-walk, under the open, forgiving night sky where he could finally step off and let go. He wanted the voice in his head to go away, he wanted his fears to be silenced, he wanted all his worries to be squashed.<p>

But his magic, apparently, did not want the same thing. Because it was still refusing to work for him. The more he focused, the more he tried to push his magic outward, the louder the buzzing in his head got and the more it hurt. It felt like his magic was fighting him. Now, when he desperately needed it the most.

_End it!_ demanded the voice in his head, _end your life and you will be free! No more destiny, no more failures, no more loss. No more fear! End it, now!_

And Merlin tried. Oh, how he tried. But still, his magic refused him.

He had been distantly aware of Gwaine speaking to him, and knew Gaius was still somewhere nearby, and it was with the same detachment that he noticed a third person descend the stairs. He could hear a new voice, and reluctantly brought himself back into focus enough to see who it was.

Arthur's uncle now stood in front of his cell, small, dark eyes focused intently on him.

And suddenly, Merlin's magic burst to life. The buzzing disappeared. Without meaning to, he conjured up the silvery blue ball that had been Arthur's guide so many years ago. It floated above his head, pulsing with unused power and for but a moment, all Merlin could do was stare.

"Merlin…"

His eyes dropped back to Gwaine, who was now standing and staring at the same ball of light, his face slack. Merlin saw Gaius standing behind him, frozen in terror, before he finally glanced at Agravaine -

And his magic exploded.

The cell door burst outward, knocking the three stunned men off their feet. An almighty crash rumbled through the walls and the ceiling shook, loose bits of stone falling everywhere. Agravaine, staring at Merlin like a starved wolf, began to struggle to his feet. Merlin felt another pulse of magic burst out of him and the walls around them thundered and trembled. Actual chunks of the ceiling began to fall, shrouding not just Agravaine but Gwaine and Gaius in dust and rubble.

"No!" Merlin cried. His magic finally fell silent. He stepped forwards to help, to make sure they were okay - but then the voice was back in his head, louder than ever.

_Now's your chance, _it hissed urgently._ Go! Now!_

_Gwaine…_ Merlin thought, _Gaius…_

_You've killed them!_ The voice growled back. _More deaths on your conscience! Go, before you take any more lives!_

Just like every time before, Merlin listened to the voice. He turned from his friends, from Arthur's family, and he ran.

He took the steps two at a time, keeping his eyes downward, only looking where he next needed to put his feet. More death, more destruction, because of him. He was sick of it. He was sick of it all.

"Merlin!"

He looked up, stopped in his tracks, to see Arthur, Percival, Elyan and Gwen all staring at him. Lancelot had pushed himself in front of the others and had his hands held out, palms up, as if trying to calm a frightened horse. "Merlin…" he asked slowly. His shoulder twitched, his back tense. "What did you do?"

One single, broken sob escaped the warlock. He'd hurt more people, people close to him. "I'm cursed, Lancelot."

Lancelot shook his head stiffly, never taking his eyes off his friend. "No you're not. Not in the way you think. Merlin… please… don't do anything… you'll regret." For just one moment his eyes flicked behind him, to where the others were watching carefully. None of them had moved a muscle. They were all looking at him openly, gazes full of concern and confusion. Merlin could feel a faint buzzing start back up inside his head.

"It's a bit late for that," Merlin choked out.

"It's never too late, Merlin," Lancelot argued calmly. "We can fix this. We can fix all of this. I just need you to stay where you are. Let us help you, Merlin."

The buzzing was getting louder. Merlin was running out of time. "I can't," he sobbed.

"You can," Arthur was speaking now, stepping up beside Lancelot slowly. "We're your friends, Merlin. You have to trust us."

A wild laugh escaped Merlin. He felt twitchy, and his legs itched to continue running. The voice egged him on. "Trust you. I can trust you. But you can't trust me."

Lancelot saw what he was going to do half a second before he did it. "Merlin, don't - "

Merlin flung his arm out and Lancelot flew backwards, landing solidly on the stone floor. Arthur's eyes went wide but he had no chance to react before he too was thrown into the air, slamming against the wall. Gwen and the knights stared, and Elyan made an abortive movement to the hilt of his sword. The buzzing had reached deafening levels and Merlin could feel his magic slipping once again from his grasp. So in one final feat of power Merlin ran, and used his magic to spur him on, dodging around Percival's outstretched hand, Gwen's shout lost in the wind. He sped away, faster than the most powerful horse, and was quickly out of sight.

He was not far away when finally his magic failed him, withdrawing back under his skin just the same as when he'd been locked in the cell, or tried to fight off Leon and Gwaine. It was buzzing again - Merlin now understood the buzzing was his magic, irritated like a rash, fighting against his will. He let out a frustrated huff of breath even as he shook with horror.

Everyone knew now. Everyone had seen him use magic. _Arthur_ had seen him. Oh gods, Merlin had used magic _against_ him.

There truly was no hope left for him now.

Looking around, Merlin realised he'd not planned out any kind of route and was now nowhere near the steps leading up to the wall-walk. Glancing to his left, however, gave him a new idea. He was very close to the armoury.

* * *

><p>Percival followed Lancelot down the stairs to the ruined dungeons. Several guards followed on their heels, the explosion having quickly jolted most of the castle awake. His mind whirred as he ran, his eyes fixed on the back of Lancelot's head.<p>

His friend had argued heatedly with Arthur when the prince had told him to check on Agravaine, Gaius and Gwaine. It had not been until Arthur, face blotchy red with rage, had threatened to cut him down where he stood that Lancelot had relented.

Arthur, Elyan and Leon had gone chasing after Merlin. Merlin… the sorcerer.

They reached the landing and stared at the remains of the cells before rushing forward to pull the rubble away in search of their friends. Merlin had done this. He'd collapsed solid stone as if it were soggy paper. He'd thrown two fully-grown men as if they were twigs. He'd practically disappeared right under their noses without so much as a murmur.

Merlin had used _magic_. He'd most likely been using it for a very long time.

Lancelot shouted through the dust not yet settled and Percival rushed to him to see Gaius coughing violently under debree. Both grabbing one arm, the two knights pulled him out from under the fallen ceiling and guided him towards the stairs. Gaius sat heavily, still coughing, and looked around him through watery eyes. He was searching.

"Merlin ran, Gaius," Lancelot explained as Percival went back to help the guards find the men still missing. He thought he heard a gasped 'no' behind him, but couldn't be sure.

Lancelot had known. That was obvious, now. And he'd never told Percival. Even in the beginning, when Lancelot had received a letter from a friend begging for help, Lancelot had not explained to him just who that friend was. He'd never fully given reason for the amount of trust and admiration he held for Merlin. But Percival had still followed, and they'd helped Arthur, and they'd stayed after the battle was won. After the… after the immortal soldiers had all died. Without explanation.

Oh.

Percival saw a flash of brown hair and dug, exhaling with relief at seeing a bruised but breathing Gwaine amongst the crumbled stone. He gently lifted his fellow knight and carried him back towards Lancelot and Gaius, who were whispering urgently.

Gaius had known too, of course.

Why would Merlin commit such treason? Why would he, one of the most loyal men Percival had ever met, betray Arthur, whom he followed with such dedication? Why would Gaius and Lancelot allow it?

Percival lay Gwaine carefully on the ground, Lancelot and Gaius becoming silent and watching him with guilty eyes. He couldn't properly face them. Instead he focused on trying to rouse Gwaine, who only moaned in response.

What would happen to Merlin now? Arthur had been so shocked, so angry. What would he do when he found Merlin? What if he didn't find Merlin at all? The manservant was still under the banshee's curse. He was probably trying to take his life again even now.

Percival stared at Gwaine's pained face and wondered if he would ever see his friend alive again.

"Sir!" Percival and Lancelot both turned at the guard's call. "There's no sign of Agravaine."

"What - none? He's not just… " Lancelot hesitated.

"He's not here at all, sir."

* * *

><p>Agravaine's head was still pounding as he stumbled out of the passageway and into the cool night air. His vision was slightly blurry and his left arm was jarred, but he was determined.<p>

Arthur's manservant had powerful magic. No wonder Morgana had always found him to be such a thorn in her side. He was using magic against her, for… for Arthur? It didn't make sense. Certainly not with an aching skull. But no matter. The boy's motives were not important. He dashed for the tree line of the forest. He had to report this to Morgana immediately.

* * *

><p>Arthur ran through the halls of his father's castle, ignoring the few people who had escaped their chambers or left their posts to find out what had happened. A hot, boiling rage flowed through his veins, fueled by the hurt of betrayal settled deep in his gut. Merlin, his stupid, loyal, brave, honest friend had betrayed him. Merlin had gone against Arthur, Uther, and everything Camelot had stood for. How long Merlin had been doing this, he didn't know. Before he arrived at Camelot, a bored farm boy of Ealdor with nothing better to do than practice the dark arts? Or after? Had he been influenced by the evils of magic they'd encountered together? Had he been plotting against Arthur, waiting for the perfect moment to strike? Was he in league with Morgana?<p>

Arthur almost froze at that last question, but he forced his feet to keep moving. He had to find Merlin. Despite everything, despite all that Merlin had done and how much Arthur hated him in that moment, he could not allow Merlin to die. He would not see Merlin take his own life when he knew he could do something about it. He would get answers. He would hear the reasons for Merlin's deceit, and then… Arthur had no idea what he would do with him then. But he was not allowing Merlin to die.

Not yet.


	9. Chapter 9

**This chapter was written on a new laptop! It's nice to have one that doesn't shut down randomly on me.**

**Okay, so, wow. I think there might only be a few chapters left of this. I'm already trying to decide which idea I'm going to write next. And I could have left this one on a cliff-hanger, but I didn't (not really). I hope you're all proud of me.**

**I received so much support and reassurance, and I am so grateful. It made me feel much better, and encouraged my resolve to keep writing, so thank you. Guest Reviewer Pfannekuchen - no need to apologise, I thought your English was fine and your review was so kind.**

**One last thing - if you have any issues with my stories or where I'm taking them, please feel free to PM me and I will happily talk through them with you. I promise not to be mad or offended unless you're especially rude about it (other guest reviewer, looking at you).**

Morgana stared down at Agravaine from where he sat by the fire. He was holding one hand up to his head and squinting under the light of the flames, but he looked hopeful. Like a puppy waiting for a treat.

Morgana snarled and looked away.

Merlin. That vile little servant Merlin had magic. Had probably been using it against her all these years. She still remembered falling down those stairs, the fear that turned her blood cold in that one moment before blacking out. She'd almost died then. Just like she had when Merlin had passed her the poisoned water. Twice he'd tried to doom her and failed - probably more. And for what? For _Arthur_?

She and Merlin had once been friends. He'd seen her panic and fret over her growing abilities. He'd seen the torment she went through, and all this time he could have helped her. He could have talked to her, he could have been there for her. But he'd stayed away, left her to stumble blindly around until Morgause appeared at her side. He'd been dooming her even back then.

Well, no more. Whatever the traitor's reasons - unfathomed loyalty, his own bid for the throne - it did not matter. He was dead.

The flames exploded and grew, spitting and hissing as Agravaine jumped away with a shout. Her blood boiled as hot as the fire and she clenched her fists. She would kill Merlin even before Arthur. For his betrayals, for his meddlings, for everything.

Merlin was dead.

* * *

><p>Merlin could not die.<p>

He was in the very middle of the armoury, surrounded by all kinds of weapons, all sharp and begging to be used. But Merlin could not touch them.

Every time he stepped up to one, reached his hands out to grab it, he would blink and suddenly be back in the middle of the room again. The buzzing was deafening in his ears. His magic was working against him. He was beginning to see it had been this entire time. But he was fed up with it. He was done with having no control. He was done with failing. He just wanted it to end.

His mind flashed back to the look of horror on Arthur's face and he focused on a heavy-looking axe hanging on the wall. He strode determinedly towards it and stretched out his arm. He did not tremble or flinch away. He was steady. He knew this was what he had to do.

Suddenly he was back in the same spot as before and he shouted in frustration. His head ached with the buzzing. His stomach felt twisted, his heart hurt in the way one does when staying out in the cold for too long. _Please,_ he begged, _please, just let me have this._

Merlin forced himself forwards, faster than before, and reached for the axe. He felt his magic push him back but he fought it, a defiant growl turning into a cry as he strained against it. His hand brushed against the handle. He curled his fingers around it in an iron grip and hauled it off the wall.

Every moment was a struggle as he fought his very being. His skin itched and his limbs twitched with the force of his magic, trying to launch the axe from his hands. He would not let it. Everything ended, here and now.

The door launched open and Arthur rushed in, a shout of "Merlin!" falling from his lips. He froze at the sight in front of him. Merlin stared back, the axe heavy in his hands. Finally, slowly, Arthur took a step forward, only for Merlin to shrink backwards.

"Please don't," he whispered. He couldn't even be entirely sure what he was asking of Arthur. _Don't hurt me. Don't come near me. Don't look at me._

_Don't hate me._

Arthur only raised his hands, his eyes flicking from the head of the axe to Merlin's face. Blue met blue and the two stared at each other, a chasm between them that had never been there before. "Put down the axe, Merlin."

Merlin shook his head and tensed his muscles as his magic fought back with renewed strength. He was not failing again. Arthur took another step forward and Merlin stepped back until he came into contact with the wall behind him. Arthur's expression was crumbling. His voice was shaky. "Merlin. Please put down the axe."

"Why?" Merlin asked hopelessly, a sob escaping with the word. "Why should I?" Somewhere deep, deep down, clawing to unbury itself from all the hurt and fear and loneliness on top of it, something flared. It felt a bit like hope. Hope Arthur would have an answer.

But the prince remained silent, looking lost. Merlin's hands trembled. Finally, with a shaky breath, Arthur said "I don't know."

He lowered his hands but kept his eyes on Merlin's. "I should let you die. I shouldn't care what you do with that - " he gestured to the axe but never looked away " - and I shouldn't care that you want to... That you want to - " he stopped and swallowed. "You're a traitor, Merlin. You've betrayed me and my father. You've lied to me for who knows how long." Merlin's vision was going blurry and he hefted the axe higher as his fears were confirmed.

"But I'm still asking you to put the axe down." Arthur's eyes shone suspiciously in the torchlight. Merlin's breath caught. "No, actually. I don't need to ask you. I am your prince, and I am commanding you, Merlin. Put. It. Down."

The voice was suddenly searingly loud in Merlin's head. _So he can kill you himself? So he can banish you, or imprison you? Now is your chance! Do it now!_ Merlin lifted the axe in one hand and, palm up, pushed every ounce of his willpower into his magic. He put every bad thought, every horrible memory, every insecurity into making it obey him. The axe floated above his head, positioning itself perfectly to fall back down over Merlin's head.

Arthur stood tall, regal and terrified. "Merlin! DON'T YOU DARE!"

His magic exploded and the axe flew away to embed itself in the far wall.

Merlin cried out in despair and fell to his knees. He would never succeed. He was doomed to fail, even in this. All of his energy fled him and he began to collapse. The only thing he saw before he succumbed to blackness was Arthur's face.

* * *

><p>Arthur was infinitely glad Leon had eventually made the same decision to check the armoury. It meant he wasn't the one that had to carry Merlin.<p>

Their destination, this time, was Gaius' rooms. The dungeons would be out of service for a while. And anyway, Arthur realised bitterly, it's not like they'd stop him.

He'd been telling Merlin the truth. He didn't know why he'd stopped him. He didn't know why the thought of losing Merlin still hurt. He hadn't yet considered it too closely.

If he was being completely honest with himself, he was trying not to think about it.

But they had to make some kind of decision about what to do with him, and so it came to be that he, Gaius, Guinevere and the knights all fit themselves into Gaius' main room and now remained in sombre silence. Merlin lay in Gaius' bed in the kind of sleep that resembled the dead. The comparison was not lost on Arthur, who only glanced at the servant - at the sorcerer - occasionally, to reassure him he was still there. Still breathing.

All the while wishing he didn't care.

Gwaine was sat in front of the sleeping man, facing them all and looking defiant even with a face lined by pain. He'd roused quickly, apparently, and had immediately demanded the whereabouts of Merlin.

"You're not killing him," he said now.

"You say it as if it were so simple," Leon replies weakly.

"Well, why shouldn't it be?" Gwaine demanded. "So he uses magic! So what?"

Arthur saw red. "So what? So _what?_ So Merlin is a traitor! He could have been plotting against us this entire time!"

Gwaine raised one eyebrow. "You don't really believe that, do you? This is Merlin we're talking about. If you'd stop being a bloody twat for one goddamn moment - "

"If you would get your head out of your arse for one second - "

"Gwaine's right, Arthur," Lancelot interrupted. Arthur glared at him and he quickly backpedalled. "Not about you being a twat of course, sire, but he is right about Merlin. Merlin could never hurt you. He could never hurt any of us."

"And how can I trust a word you say? You knew! I should have you locked up this very instant!" Gwen rested a trembling hand on Arthur's arm and tried to speak, but he continued over her. "Oh wait, I can't, because my manservant _blew up the dungeons!_"

"Arthur," Gaius' voice was quiet in contrast. He looked pale and weary, as if he had suddenly become twenty years older. "Please. You must listen to us."

"And of course you knew as well!" Arthur shouted. He wasn't in the mood for listening. He wasn't going to listen to any more lies. "Is there anyone in this room I can trust?!"

"You can trust every one of us!" Gaius yelled back, and immediately Arthur fell quiet. Gaius never yelled. "And no-one more so than Merlin! I could not name to you all of the things he has done for you and for your father, for your kingdom, at the cost of his own wellbeing! I cannot tell you all of the times the boy I see as my own son has endured pain, loneliness and fear for your sake! What he has risked for you, and for the world you will build..." Gaius wavered but stayed standing, the fight draining out of him. "Merlin did not choose this life for himself. He did not choose the burdens of magic. He was given them from the moment he was conceived. Merlin was born a being of magic, able to do greater deeds than any great king before he was out of his crib. And still he chose to serve you. To protect you, time and time again.

"Do not insult us by saying you cannot trust us. That is a lie and you know it." He fixed Arthur with a penetrating gaze. "Why else would you have saved him?"

For a moment, Arthur was speechless. Could it be true? Could Merlin still be the friend he had come to know? They had been through so much together. Merlin had been there for him so many times. Surely so many years together could not have been one big act. But... "Magic is evil," he said, and he hated that he sounded so desperate. He sounded weak.

"Merlin _is_ magic, sire," Lancelot said quietly. "Do you truly think Merlin is evil?" When Arthur did not answer, he continued. "Why do you think the banshee was so effective on him? Why do you think Merlin is so determined to die? You heard him before. He thinks he's cursed." Lancelot gazed sadly down at his friend. "I have seen him save a kingdom that would kill him if he were found out. He has done more brave and noble acts than your best knight, and every time he is rewarded with more secrecy, with loss. And yet he keeps trying." Lancelot paused. "He must be so tired."

Arthur looked down at the man on the cot. He studied the jet-black hair, the pale skin, the large ears that Arthur had made so many jokes about.

_"Honestly, Merlin," Arthur had drawled one day, frustrated from too much paperwork and not enough time on the training fields. "What could be the possible reason for having ears that big?"_

_"All the better to hear you with, sire," Merlin replied, a large grin as always on his cheerful face._

_Arthur scoffed. "You never listen to me."_

_"No, but I have the option for if I ever decide to."_

Arthur stared, and he remembered, and he wondered. He hoped.


End file.
